Marked
by PrincessSteph31
Summary: When Callie begins her first day of junior year, she has no reason to expect anything unusual. After all, nothing ever changes in her small town. But then she meets Owen, and he is definitely unlike any other guy she knows. But just how different, she can't even begin to imagine...
1. Chapter 1

**Title: "Marked"**

**_Disclaimer: The characters and theme of this story are based on Stephenie Meyers' "Twilight" series. Hope you enjoy. :)_**

Chapter 1

I was awakened by the incessant beeping of my alarm. Groaning, I rolled over to smack the top of the clock, and paused to lay on the edge of my comfortable, warm bed, staring, dazed, at the bright red numbers – 6:30. I slid – no, more like tumbled – off of the bed and crashed to the wooden floor and stifled a screech as my knee slammed into the nightstand. The thud shook the room, and everything that rested on my dresser and desk trembled uneasily. I slapped a hand against my warm cheek, attempting to rub the sleepiness out of my face. First day of junior year. Great.

I used the side of the bed to lift myself up and my legs felt tingly, barely able to keep me upright. Yawning, I pulled the cord on the blinds next to my bed to let some sunshine into my room. What a rude awakening – the sunlight pierced my eyes fiercely and I moaned as I covered my face with one hand. It was 6:32 am, and I was ready for this day to be over.

I slumped across the cold floor to my closet and began scanning it for the perfect outfit for my first day. Oh, who was I kidding? Since when was I concerned with how I looked to everybody else? The people at school were the same ones I'd been going to school with for the past sixteen years, and I had always looked the same to them. This year would be no different. I mindlessly snatched a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a blue and white striped long-sleeved top, and sauntered into the bathroom to shower.

The cold tile in the bathroom was even more alarming to my bare feet, and I jumped onto the fuzzy blue mat in front of the sink for relief. I laid my clothes out on the counter and leaned backwards to turn the water on in the tub. The harsh sound of rushing water hurt my ears, and I quickly flipped the knob on top of the spigot to release the water in a calm, even spray from above.

The hot water relaxed my sore muscles, but didn't help with the drowsiness of the early morning. I slowly shifted to the wall and leaned my head against the cool, wet, tile, allowing myself to doze off and enjoy the feeling of the water on my back and neck.

A sudden voice – muffled by the shower – disturbed my relaxation.  
"Callie!"  
I flew upright again, almost losing my balance and tripping out of the tub. That would

have been the second time in less than ten minutes that I had demonstrated my not-so- gracefulness. The voice now bellowed.

"Callie! Almost ready?"

I could barely make out what she was yelling through the rhythmic sound of the water in the shower, but I took it as a warning to finish up, so I rinsed off quickly and turned the knob to shut the water off. As I dried off and got dressed slowly, I allowed my mind to wander to the day ahead.

My first day as an upperclassman, I thought. Big deal. It won't be any different from every other boring year I've had in this town.

One thing my friends and I complained about regularly was how nothing in the small town of Chester, New Jersey, ever seemed to change. The same stores and restaurants were always there, in the same place, year after year. The same people remained in the town without the visitation of many newcomers. The town was quaint, nice, and adorably historic. History buffs enjoyed strolling and taking in the sights of old houses and Civil War-era landmarks. But for my age group, Chester was just. a predictable town with very little to do.

I always had a hard time feeling completely satisfied with the way things were, because I felt like there was more to life than everything I knew. Life had to consist of more than school, hobbies, and homework. Where was the adventure, the danger? Why didn't anything exciting or unexpected happen in my life?

Somehow, I just felt different. Maybe that's why I only had a handful of close friends and hardly any significant social life.

I bounded down the stairs of my family's small, two-story home, and spun around the banister. My house fit into the town nicely; it was old, built in the early 1900's, and it was the kind of house people drove by and took pictures of because it was so 'cute.' It was painted a light salmon color on the outside, with white shutters. My dad had always despised the way it looked from the road, but my mom had apparently fallen in love with it the first time we drove by it and noticed the 'For Sale' sign fifteen years ago. That means I have lived in this house since I was one year old – boring.

On the inside, my house was very bright. Window shades were always hanging wide open to allow as much sunlight in as possible, and the walls were painted vibrant, obnoxious colors. The dining room, for example, was a strange combination of lime green and bright yellow, and the living room was neon orange. I always thought the way my mom had decorated the house was an accurate representation of her bubbly personality, but this early in the morning the colors gave me a splitting headache and made my stomach feel queasy.

I stepped into the kitchen, blinded by the stream of sunlight seeping in through the window above the sink, and spotted my mom standing at the counter arranging breakfast on four plates. My dad sat at the kitchen table sipping his coffee and chatting with my younger brother, Chris, who was starting third grade today. I was envious of his obvious excitement; he was wondering in an animated fashion about who his classmates might be.

I stepped across the kitchen and laid a kiss on my mom's cheek from behind, surprising her.

"Oh, good morning!" she beamed, handing me a plate filled with toast, fruit, and yogurt. She was the good American mom, believing in healthy breakfasts and family dinners. I loved her to death.

As I pulled out a chair at the table to join my dad and Chris, my mom spoke excitedly.

"I was trying to hurry you along in the shower." As if I hadn't noticed. "Wouldn't want you to be late for your first day of school!" She grinned at me as she set plates in front of Chris and my dad.

"That would truly be a tragedy," I muttered lifelessly, picking at my fruit with my fork. My dad snorted at my sarcasm and my mom rolled her eyes.  
Chris continued discussing his excitement to be starting third grade as we all settled down

to eat breakfast together. My parents responded with the required "mhmm's" and "ah's" at the appropriate times, and smiled at each other as they finished eating and began packing lunches and feeding the family dog, Miles.

"Are you excited for school, Callie?" Chris asked, as he bit into his toast.

"Sure," I replied dully. I looked up to smile at him after taking the last bite of my toast and washing it down with a swig of orange juice. "It's just another first day of school."

"I'm sure it'll be fun," My mom replied, always optimistic. "Just think, only one more first day of high school for you after this! And then you'll be off to college, far away."

I could see where this was going.

"Mom," I cut in. "Let's avoid the emotional discussion about my departure until graduation , shall we?" I lifted myself out of the chair and set my plate and empty glass next to the sink.

My mom blushed and smiled, turning towards the dishes to wash them.  
"Better finish getting ready," she added. I scooted out of the kitchen on cue.  
Upon returning to my room, I grabbed my towel from my bed and rubbed my hair dry,

watching my reflection in the mirror. The next hour was spent applying my makeup and straightening my hair, while periodically checking the time to be sure I wasn't running late. All the while I tried to convince myself that this year would be exciting.

Maybe something fun will happen? I tried to think hopefully, but I couldn't lie to myself. Nothing exciting happened in Chester, and this was just going to be another dull year of high school.

I pulled my gray Camry into the small parking lot at West Morris Mendham High School; the same school where I had spent my last two years. People were pouring into the lot and parking their cars when I got there, meeting up with their friends and excitedly making their way into the large brick institution. I swung my car into an empty spot on the far side of the lot next to a shiny black Mercedes; definitely not a car I recognized after living here and being around these same people all my life. I eyed the car as I quieted the engine and slid out onto the pavement. As I pulled my orange backpack on my back and started toward the school, I looked back once at the black Mercedes and shrugged.

It was 8:40, and the sun was already hot, beaming down on me and making me weaker with each step. It felt like the dead of summer – the time of year when I sat inside on a comfy chair with a book, a box fan propped up in front of me for comfort. I yearned for the cool relief fall would bring; relief which would enable me to wear sweaters and sweatshirts comfortably

without sweltering. I rubbed the back of my exposed neck, which already had that tingling, burning sensation.

As I pulled the heavy front door of the school open, I was nearly knocked on my back from the force of my best friend, Anna, bounding up out of nowhere and squeezing me.

"Hi!" She squealed as she let go of me and stepped back. She was beaming from ear to ear. Could she really be this excited to start school?

"Um, hey," I responded, giving her an odd look and laughing. "You sure seem happy to be here. Did you get your schedule yet? Good classes? Good teachers?" I racked my brain for the reason why she was so animated.

"No, no!" She rolled her eyes and waved her hand to dismiss those ridiculous ideas, and we began walking through the foyer. "It's not school that I'm excited about. You should see the new guy!"

I laughed. Now the reason for Anna's mood was blatantly obvious. She was absolutely boy-crazy, so naturally she would be the first person to notice a new male student in the building. Plus, Chester's population of just under 2,000 people made it pretty easy to track new people.  
As we made our way to the front office, I looked around, not noticing anyone unfamiliar. The same faces I'd seen for years rushed past me in a blur as students hustled to homeroom or their lockers. Excited chatter and greetings came from all over, and people laughed and hugged as if they hadn't seen each other in three years, rather than three months.

I stepped into the small office and took note that nothing in the room had changed since last year. The same fish tank was standing in the far corner - squeezed in between two burgundy arm chair – the same multi-colored fish zipping around inside. The same small wooden coffee table stood in the middle of the room, stacked with Family magazines and college planning guides. The front desk was already cluttered with papers and the woman behind the desk, Mrs. Fraser, looked frazzled. There were too many students in the office – definitely more than the room was designed to accommodate comfortably. People were shoving each other aside and squeezing through to collect their schedules and locker assignments.

"Good morning, Ms. Creighton," Mrs. Fraser welcomed as I clamored to the front of the group. She handed three other students their schedules at the same time.

I smiled and took the yellow piece of paper she extended to me over a terrified freshman's head.

"Thanks," I shouted over the roar that filled the small room, as Anna grabbed hers. We left in a hurry, eager to escape the chaos. As soon as we reached the safety of the hallway I glanced at the paper and found my locker number and combination.

"Number 34," I mumbled. "that's in the far hallway by the cafeteria." I was talking to myself, but I saw Anna nod in agreement out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh, good!" she squealed. "Mine is number 39; we should be close by!"

We pushed our way through the frenzy of students crowding the halls. Dazed and lost freshman spun in circles wildly, trying to decipher where the numbers on their papers were

directing them. I smiled sympathetically at the poor souls and pointed a few in the right direction. They thanked me, eyes wide and frightened.

Finally, Anna and I were facing the row of lockers directly across from the glass doors of the cafeteria. I stopped dead in my tracks when we arrived, and stared.

"That's him!" Anna excitedly whispered, pointing in the direction I was looking. "That's the new guy I was telling you about!" Her voice was much too loud to be discreet, although she was trying to contain her excitement. I smacked her shoulder with my paper to silence her, but the boy at the lockers didn't look up.

He stood roughly ten feet away with his back facing us, bending down to set his books in his locker. He was wearing khakis and an olive-green polo shirt, which molded to his thin body. As he pulled notebooks out of his black backpack next to him, I couldn't help but notice his perfectly-muscled arms, and the careful way he handled his materials. I forced myself to look away from him and glanced at Anna, who stood there grinning and watching his every move.

"Stop staring," I hissed. So he was a new student, so what? I hadn't even seen his face yet; maybe he wasn't as good-looking as I was imagining.

As soon as the thought ran through my mind he stood, gracefully pulling his backpack up over his shoulder. He turned around and looked up, straight at me and Anna. It was then made extremely clear that he was in fact more attractive than I had been imagining for the past thirty seconds, with his dark brown, maybe black, hair tousled and wisping across his forehead, with strands hanging near his eyes, which I noticed were also beautiful. They looked to be a pale blue color, but I was just far enough away that I couldn't be absolutely sure. His skin was flawless, without being too tan or too pale. I realized instantly that he did not look like a high school student; he could have easily passed as a young man in his early twenties.

At the sight of him I'm sure my mouth fell open or my eyes widened, but I turned my head quickly when I saw the corners of his mouth turn up into a shy smile. Anna giggled and nudged me toward my locker, which was just a few feet from where he stood. My face flushed red as I passed him, and I could feel his eyes on me as I struggled against my shaking hand to open my locker. There was a beautiful aroma – his cologne, no doubt - wafting around me, and I breathed it in as I yanked the stubborn locker door open. Anna stood next to me, and I was sure she was fighting the urge to look at him as hard as I was. Finally, my weakness took over and I stole a glance up to find him looking at me with his, now I was sure, crystal-blue eyes, from only a few feet away. I blushed, and I saw one corner of his mouth curl up in a smile before he turned and walked away.

"Wow," Anna sighed. "He‟s perfect. Did you see those eyes? And how he stared at you!"

"Please," I muttered as I threw a few notebooks into the empty locker and taped a picture of me and Anna to the inside of the door. "He was not staring at me." But of course it was obvious that he was, for some unknown reason.

It wasn‟t that I considered myself unattractive, but I never would have described myself as particularly pretty. Just like any other sixteen year old girl, I had the incredible ability of picking out my faults when I looked in the mirror; consequently I tended to avoid them for my

self-esteem's benefit. My hair was ordinary and brown, hanging just past my chest, and naturally frizzy and wavy, which is why I straightened it every day to tame it. My eyes were a dark blue, almost gray color, and they were my favorite part of my appearance. People frequently commented on how they changed colors with my mood – turning bright blue when I‟m happy and gray when I‟m angry. My skin was pale, something I couldn‟t change no matter how many times I went to the beach or sat by a pool and lay under the sun. My skin only knew how to burn to a crisp and fade back to white, skipping the golden tan that usually took place somewhere in between. I was thin, but not wiry, and my height was 5'4". Mostly, I considered myself a pretty average-looking sixteen year old girl. Considering this, it caused me to question what exactly the new guy saw in me that caused him to stare so intently.

I shut my locker and turned to face Anna, who was still staring down the hall in the direction the gorgeous boy had walked. Her face was excited, and she practically skipped down the row to her lockers, with me a few steps behind. As she tossed her things into her locker, I started talking.

"Anna," I began slowly. "You remember my break up over the summer right?" I felt my face contort in a pained expression at the memory of the difficult split from my nine month long boyfriend, Adam.

"Of course, I do," she responded, glancing up with a concerned expression as she unpacked her things and threw them carelessly into the locker.

"...And how I said I don‟t want another boyfriend this year?" I was pressing her, hoping my underlying message was sinking in.

"Yes." She nodded firmly.

"Okay, just making sure you remembered," I said, looking down at the floor. "I don‟t want there to be any confusion about that. If you think he‟s cute, you should introduce yourself."

Although this new guy was incredibly good-looking, and despite the fact that he had obviously been staring at me for one reason or another, I couldn't forget about my painful breakup that had taken place only two months ago. Adam and I had met in World History, early sophomore year, and we had immediately hit it off. Only a few weeks into school we went on our first date, and by the end of the first month we were a couple. We had a very fun, exciting relationship – always laughing and joking around, and I was truly happy with him. But midway through July things changed suddenly, unexpectedly, and devastatingly. It felt like the end of the world for me when he called me to tell me it was over, that his feelings just weren't the same, and that he was sorry.

It had been my first breakup, and that had made it miserable – almost unbearable for me. I had been crazy about Adam, and all of our friends had expected to see us last through high school and well into college as a couple. He had surprised a lot of people when he ended it out of the blue, catching me completely off guard. The horrible breakup stuck in my memory like a dagger – a painful reminder that my first love was unrequited. It was something that I wasn't ready to forget or move on from.

Because of this, it was absolutely necessary that Anna should be reminded of it, before things got complicated.

Anna finally stood up and closed her locker, and we began walking together in the direction of our homeroom classrooms. She was silent the whole way, and my eyes stayed focused ahead on the long hallway that the new guy had walked down just a few minutes ago. Before I turned into the doorway of Mr. Kessler‟s class, Anna tugged on my arm. I turned to look at her, surprised.

"Look, I know you don‟t want another boyfriend after what you and Adam went through," she started sympathetically. "But, that guy...that new guy, is beautiful. I bet every girl at this school will be wishing that he looked at them the way he just looked at you." With that, she gave me a weak smile, the kind that showed how much she was sincerely trying to relate, although she knew she couldn't. She finally turned away, leaving me standing, dumbfounded, outside the doorway.

I turned and checked into homeroom and took my seat among the other students, placing my backpack next to my chair. I folded my hands on top of the cool, freshly-cleaned desk, rested my chin on them, and began to ponder. I didn‟t know what I was so concerned about. After all, the new guy had only looked at me. It wasn‟t like he had asked me out or anything. He hadn't even talked. I needed to calm down and stop thinking about it – I was just making myself paranoid.

The rest of my day went by in a blur. My teachers all seemed relatively nice, and I had at least a few friends in each class, which at least made each class bearable, despite the subject matters. Nevertheless, I was all too ready when the final bell rang and classes were dismissed. I hurried to my locker and raced out the door to my car. As I crossed the parking lot, I was in such a daze, humming to myself, that I almost didn't hear my name being called.

"Callie!"

I whipped my head around anxiously and found Adam leaning against his car, just a few rows down from where I stood.

My stomach plummeted.

I hadn‟t seen or spoken to Adam since he broke up with me unexpectedly, and ever since then I had carefully avoided talking about him with anyone. Unfortunately, the slightest mention of his name had been known to kick-start a crying fest on my part, and that was not something I was interested in reliving over and over. I hadn't been too concerned about it, though, when I had thought about school starting. I certainly wasn‟t expecting him to talk to me here, and I had secretly hoped he wouldn‟t. Now, I stood facing him, undecided about what to do. He had already seen me, and I was clearly making eye-contact with him, so turning around and ignoring him wasn't an option, to my dismay. I realized I had no choice but to toughen up and go see what he wanted, as hard as that may be.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, hoping it would make my pounding headache go away, but it didn‟t. I slowly walked over to Adam, who was casually leaning against the side of his car, with his hands shoved into his jeans pockets, smiling sweetly at me.  
Stop doing that, I begged him silently. I could feel my knees going weak and my eyes stinging already.

"Hi," I said nervously as I approached him. My voice was shaking and I hoped he didn't notice it.

"Hey," he greeted casually, as he extended his arms for a hug.  
He's acting like nothing's happened. Does he think I forgot?  
I slid into his embrace because I didn't want to make things awkward by refusing, but

somehow although I was in his arms I was able to remain distant.  
"It‟s nice to see you," he spoke into my hair, his voice muffled.  
I pulled myself out of his grasp quickly and looked down at the pavement.  
"You too," I muttered, an utter lie. Of course it wasn't nice to see him. This was exactly

the sort of confrontation I had been hoping to avoid all year. I hadn't even been able to get through the entire first day of school without tears threatening to surface.

Grow up, I scolded myself. Don't let him see you cry, whatever you do.  
"Um, I really should get going."  
I started backing away in the direction of my car.  
"Alright," he agreed happily, leaning towards his car again to open the door. "Well don‟t

be a stranger."  
I smiled weakly, but when I turned away my mouth dropped. Why was he doing this?

Did he have any idea how much he had hurt me just two months ago? Did he expect that my heart had already healed? He had no idea what I had gone through; the constant sleepovers to keep myself from crying myself to sleep every night, the weekly mom-and-daughter movie and dinner dates, so I could talk freely about my feelings away from the distractions at home, the manicures, the hair cuts, the shopping trips – all things designed to keep my mind off of the most painful experience of my life. None of it had helped, and that was something he didn't understand. He couldn't understand.

I picked up speed as I neared my car. I needed to get home, needed to forget about the awkward conversation that had just taken place. Maybe go straight to sleep, or bake cookies – anything to take my mind off of it. I looked up angrily from the pavement and froze.  
The same guy who had stared at me at my locker this morning was leaning against the back of the black Mercedes that was parked right next to my Camry.

I approached my car cautiously, aware that he was smiling at me, the same smile I had seen earlier. The smile had already been plastered into my memory. Something about the way his body pressed against the car with his elbow holding himself up intimidated me, and I felt my cheeks flush red. I unlocked my car and threw my backpack in, then looked up at him to find him still watching me with that irresistible smile. I looked away quickly and brushed my hair behind

my ear with my fingers. He chuckled at my obvious embarrassment, and with that, I scurried into my car and started the engine.

Great, now he thinks I'm a nervous wreck...Awesome first impression.

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I watched him through my side-view mirror as he climbed into his car and drove through the lot to the exit on the other side of the school. He was out of sight and I could finally breathe.

As I drove home, my head swirled with thoughts of what had happened at school. Why did the new guy seem so interested in me? And why did his smile make me swoon? Why did Adam have to talk to me and make things awkward? Couldn't he leave things alone? He had broken my heart, and now he thought he could just pretend like nothing happened? Did he just want to be friends? Was I even capable of being friends with him? I turned up the radio to tune out the blaring of my own thoughts and began singing along with the song that played. I had almost cleared my head completely, almost reached a semi-peaceful state of mind when I glanced into my review mirror and gasped.

The black Mercedes was right behind me.  
I tried to remain calm. I failed.  
I gripped the steering wheel tightly and kept my eyes focused on the road, willing myself

not to look into my mirrors and see the car that was eerily close to me.  
Is he following me? I panicked.  
I turned down the first road that came along in the historic part of town I had to drive

through to get home. Maybe I could deter him or lead him to an area he wasn't familiar with so he would give up. Or maybe if I drove for a long time, he would get tired of following and leave.

Or maybe, my thoughts started. You're so paranoid that you think he's following you when he's really just on his way home.

A comforting thought, but I didn't believe it. Every time I took a sudden turn, no matter what the road was, the car followed. I wasn't going to lose him easily. To say I was getting freaked out would have been a massive understatement.

I took the next turn that came along and sped up, at least the fifth turn I had taken unnecessarily after I had spotted the black car. I passed rows of antique stores and cafes, none of which were even remotely on my way home. The Mercedes stayed close behind me no matter what. This was getting ridiculous.

Finally, my panic turned into anger.

Who does he think he is?

Whether it was with my better judgment or not, I pulled into a parking space along the side of the street. I was not surprised to watch the Mercedes pull up easily behind me. I shut off the engine of my car and threw the door open, stepping out angrily into the street. I couldn't even waste my energy trying to look intimidating – I couldn't scare a fly if I tried.

I watched as the Mercedes‟ door swung open and the beautiful boy from school stepped out gracefully, gently shutting the door behind him. He crossed behind his car to the sidewalk and waited for me, nodding his head as encouragement to join him. I stomped over to the

sidewalk and stood in front of him, staring up into his piercing, beautiful eyes, which smiled down at me.

"What are you doing?" I demanded, trying to sound strong, although his stare intimidated me, and I thought I heard my voice crack.

"I didn't get the chance to introduce myself today. It was terribly rude of me," he smiled. "I'm Owen Braxton."

I stared at him blankly, mouth open, head tilted – trying to understand his odd behavior. I pinched my eyes shut for half a second to gather my thoughts.

"You followed me here so you could introduce yourself to me?" I didn't know what else to say.

He shrugged, that perfect smile never leaving his lips, and replied, "Am I keeping you from doing something else?" His voice was silky, and it almost hurt my ears, it was so beautiful.

What a strange guy.

"Well, no," I looked around, confused. Cars rushed by us in the street as we stood there, awkwardly staring at each other. Finally, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets, but he didn't appear nervous. He took a deep breath.

"Look, I just thought it was rude that I didn't say anything to you today when I had the opportunity to. I just wanted to say hello and introduce myself." He looked straight into my eyes, and then his face changed. His expression became dark, almost pained. I quickly turned my head and looked somewhere off in the distance.

"Well, it's nice to meet you. My name's Callie." I looked back at him and he still stared at me with an odd expression. "Are you okay?" I asked after a moment of studying his face. He was starting to creep me out, the way he looked at my face as if it had been smeared with neon yellow paint.

He shook his head, seemingly collecting himself, and nodded quickly.

"Yes, sorry to bother you. I really should be going. I've taken up too much of your time as it is," he glanced up from the ground into my eyes once more. He suddenly looked nervous, shaken even. He turned away again and said, "I'll see you tomorrow at school," mumbling slightly.

And then he was gone.  
Just like that, he swung himself into his car and pulled out into the street effortlessly, racing around a corner and disappearing. I stayed there and stared after him for a moment, then turned to look at the spot he had just stood, wondering what had made him flee.

He wanted to introduce himself to me?

I tried to think back to a time when a stranger had ever followed me halfway home, scaring me half to death, just to tell me their name. I came up blank. The only word that seemed to fit the description of that type of person was psychotic. But then my mind shifted gears as I recalled the smoldering smile that had quickly caused my anger to fade as soon as he had spoken.

Maybe he's just overly friendly?

Then I realized how odd the situation really was. How had he known what I wanted before I even knew? It hadn't crossed my mind during the entire course of the day that I wanted him to talk to me, yet now as I stood there, alone, on this strange sidewalk in the middle of town, I discovered how happy and relieved I was that I had met him. Unconventionally, of course, but now I knew his name, and he knew mine. Strange, however, that he had taken the initiative to meet me without so much as an invitation or acknowledgment from me before-hand. I slowly walked back to my car, piecing together exactly how I felt. My conclusion was that I was happy. I didn't understand why, but I left it at that. No questions. I hesitantly revved the engine and started towards home.

That night involved a lot of homework and a lot of thinking – both things I would have preferred to have skipped. I tried to focus on the massive amount of homework each teacher had sent home, but finally gave in to my desire to just lay on my bed and absorb the day's events. I said goodnight to my parents and Chris and closed my bedroom door, pulling the sheets down on my bed and curling up underneath them. As I settled against my pillow, my mind raced.

Today was weird, I thought.  
Owen.  
The name flashed through my mind. What a perfect name for him. He seemed so

mysterious, so beautiful, so perfect. I opened my eyes and rolled over. I tried to shake the thoughts from my head and pulled my blankets up to cover my face. Images of Owen's crystal eyes, tousled dark hair, and perfect slender body filled my mind. I could hear his velvety voice fill my ears even though it was silent in my room. I remembered how he had raced away so suddenly in town today, and I wondered what had happened.

Maybe he decided I'm not as pretty as he may have originally thought, I thought to myself, and with that I drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next morning dragged by slowly. The second day of school was much like the first day of school – meeting all new teachers and having all new classes with different students. My first two classes, Chemistry and Spanish, went by at an excruciating pace – both teachers droned on in a monotone voice about their rules and classroom courtesies. In Spanish, as Senora Alvarez wrote her policies on the board, I peeked around the room to see if anyone was still paying attention. Several boys were chatting quietly in the far back corner, mumbling incoherently – at least to me – clearly not listening to what was going on in the front of the room. A few scattered boys and girls were resting their heads on their arms and hands, either fast asleep or dozing, and tuning out the teacher effortlessly. As I watched the big teasing clock on the wall above the door, I silently wished I had the ability to sleep easily in class. I'd always had a major problem sleeping in school, although I had tried several times before in my most boring classes. Finally, the bell rang, startling Senora Alvarez, who whipped around like someone was trying to break into the window. She giggled as she realized that class was over, and said goodbye in Spanish, but the majority of us were already out in the hall.

Poor woman, I thought with a chuckle, as I headed to my locker to meet Anna for lunch. When I arrived, she was standing by her locker, grinning.

"What?" I asked with a chuckle; I was in a much better mood than yesterday. "You know that new guy?" She asked.  
Oh boy.  
I nodded. Of course I knew who he was, but I knew the question was meant to be

rhetorical. I started fumbling with the knob on my locker.  
"His name's Owen, and he's in my Algebra class," she said excitedly, but in a low tone to

keep others from hearing.  
"Oh?" I asked, pretending to be distracted. I hadn't told her about how he followed me

yesterday, and I didn't intend to. All that would do would be to entice her further in her matchmaking efforts, and I wasn't going to encourage that.

"He doesn't talk to anyone," she continued. "He seems like kind of a loner. But, you know, the sexy kind. Poetic and stuff. Doesn't he seem kind of artsy to you?" She was babbling now, and I was only half-listening.

"I don't know," I replied, hoping she would get the hint and drop the subject. I gathered my things for English, which I would have right after lunch, and shut my locker. When I turned towards Anna she appeared to be distracted, watching a small group of senior boys walking past us, and I knew, thankfully, that the conversation about Owen was over, at least for now.

We walked across the hall to the cafeteria where people were streaming in, and found a seat at a small round table in the corner where a few of our other friends were already sitting. The topics of conversation at the table could not keep my mind from wandering.

"Did you see that horror movie that just came out last weekend?" asked one of the guys, Matt. The question was open for everyone to answer, and everyone answered except for me, who was hardly paying attention.

I felt a hard jab in the ribs and nearly jumped out of my seat.

"What?" I rubbed my left side and made a face at Anna, who looked at me with a confused expression.

"What's with you?" she whispered. "Are you feeling alright? You're barely talking." "Yeah, yeah," I said, waving my hand nonchalantly to dismiss her question. "Just tired." I glanced around the cafeteria, knowing who I was hoping to lay eyes on, but refusing to

admit it. I turned my head as discreetly as I could, to look behind me until I spotted Adam waving to me from a few tables over. I turned to look at my tray of hardly-touched food quickly.

Crap.

Too late; his hand was on my shoulder in a matter of seconds, and when I looked up, he was towering over me with a smirk on his face. My eyes narrowed at him and my friends all looked from me to him with a look of shock on their faces.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked me, backing up to allow me to push my chair out.

I stood up without responding and started out of the cafeteria, with Adam in toe. I was annoyed. No, I was more than annoyed. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? Yesterday had been difficult enough in the parking lot, but now he was taking me away from my friends during school? I needed to show him that I wasn't happy, but I wasn't used to being rude to him.

Irrelevant, I thought as I swung the cafeteria door open, not bothering to hold it for Adam as he lingered out behind me. When we reached the hallway I spun around.

"What?" I demanded harshly.

His eyes widened and he threw his hands up in a defensive gesture.  
"Cal, I just wanna talk," he said softly.  
"About what." It was a statement, not a question, and it came out so harshly that I

impressed myself.  
"About us," he said quietly, and he reached his hand out to touch mine. I pulled it back

out of his reach abruptly.  
"You broke up with me, remember?" I said icily as a backed away a few feet.  
Adam turned his eyes away, looking around to make sure no one was watching this, no

doubt embarrassing, confrontation. He darted his eyes back to me sternly.  
"Can you please not be dramatic?" he said through gritted teeth. "And don't make a

scene."  
"I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

My patience was wearing thin, and as hard as it had been to be rude when we first started talking, it was growing easier by the second.

"Didn't you say you wanted to talk to me? Just talk."  
His eyes narrowed but he took a short breath and opened his mouth, about to start. "Excuse me," a voice cut in. Before I even looked up I recognized the voice. I couldn't

mistake its softness and beauty.  
"Owen," I breathed. Adam gaped at him, clearly aggravated by the interruption. If Owen

noticed, he didn't let it show on his face.  
"May I borrow Callie for a moment?" he asked Adam kindly. Adam shook his head and

looked back at me. I assumed he was expecting me to deny Owen's offer. As if.  
"Actually, we were in the middle of a discussion." Adam's tone was rude, and I was

praying that it wouldn't discourage Owen.  
"I'm sorry," Owen replied. "But this is important, it's about one of our classes. I need to

ask her something."  
I stared at Owen, my hero. Adam looked furious, and opened his mouth again – my

guess, to yell something rude back - but Owen's angelic, peaceful smile caused him to snap his mouth quickly. He stalked off without looking back and slammed the cafeteria door behind him.

I had hardly taken my eyes off of Owen the whole time he had been standing there; studying his perfect features, fantasizing about touching his soft-looking skin. His eyes turned down to me as soon as Adam was out of sight, and I averted my gaze to the floor.

"Wow, t-thanks," I stuttered.

"You didn't want to talk to him, did you?" Owen asked, that smile creeping up on his lips again.

"How could you tell?" I snorted sarcastically, nervously shifting my weight from side to side.

"It was just a funny feeling," he laughed. "Glad to help."

He smiled once more and disappeared down the hallway just as the bell dismissed students from lunch.

I walked into my English classroom still thinking about the encounter during lunch. My mind had focused on two things during the walk to class. First of all, Adam hadn't been able to finish what he had wanted to talk to me about. Not that it really mattered – what could he possibly have to say? Still, I wondered about what he had intended to discuss, although I had no clue. The other thing I focused on was how Owen had snuck up on us so easily, going so

unnoticed. I hadn't heard him walking up, and Adam hadn't appeared to; and how did he know that I didn't want to talk to Adam? I had tried to keep my voice low when we were talking – as Adam had pointed out, I didn't want to make a scene. But Owen had picked up on the fact that I wanted Adam to leave, and he took care of it with such grace and class.

I allowed my mind to continue wandering as I stepped into the classroom. As I scanned the room from the doorway my eyes froze on Owen sitting at a desk in the back corner, away from everyone else. He smiled at me when I looked at him, and some unexplained magnetic force pulled me back to him. I didn't fight it.

He pulled out the chair at the empty desk next to him when I got closer.

"I was hoping you'd sit here," he smiled.  
Immediately my knees went weak and I subconsciously reached out for the desk to hold me up.  
I slid into the seat that he had pulled out and he pulled his hand back into his lap. I looked at him nervously and pulled a notebook out of my bag. All through class I took careful notes on American Literature, which was the title of the class, but the whole time I was very aware of how close together Owen and I were sitting.

Had our desks been this close to each other when I got here?

I could feel his body heat as I leaned over my desk, scribbling everything Mrs. Kagan was lecturing about, but my mind was far away from the lesson. I found myself nervously tensing every time Owen moved. Spasms of energy surged through my body whenever I sensed him looking at me, but I was careful to control it. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was a freak who couldn't handle sitting next to him. But controlling my urge to touch him became progressively more and more difficult as the hour dragged on. I found myself staring at the clock, watching time tick by slowly, until finally the bell rang and I was able to relax.  
I packed up quickly and stole one last look at Owen; he was standing up and pushing in his chair. He glanced up and winked at me before I turned around. I left the room and raced to my locker, desperately escaping whatever weird sensation had just taken over me.

My last class went by slowly, as all the others had, and I anxiously tapped my mechanical pencil on my notebook paper, waiting for the bell to ring. I had no interest in government, so unfortunately it was too easy to tune out the teacher, Mr. Hagler. My mind was on other things which were, in my mind, more important. I was out of my seat and walking out the door at the first bell.

I gathered my things out of my locker and practically sprinted out the door. I wanted to avoid seeing Owen if that was at all possible. I couldn't afford to get weak-kneed around him. I was fighting myself the whole time I crossed the parking lot. Of course I wanted to see him. I had never felt such a strong pull and desire to be around someone else. But something about the way he made me feel sent shivers through my body when I thought about it. No matter what, I had to stick to my promise to myself that I would remain single and focus on school this year. Luckily, I reached my car before he did and pulled out of the school and onto the road without spotting him.  
When I got home, I turned on my computer, eager to distract myself. I sat down to write a paper for Spanish class, and settled into my chair with my notes and textbook, and opened Microsoft Word; suddenly, my instant messenger screen popped up with a message from Owen83. My body stiffened as I read the user name and then read what he had typed.  
Owen83: Hey.  
Owen83: Are you there?

I swallowed hard. I knew I should have closed out of the message box, but I responded anyway.

Live4Music: Hi, I'm here. Is this Owen? He responded within five seconds.

Owen83: Screen names don't lie. :)  
I breathed out slowly, my fingers trembling.

Live4Music: Thanks again for today. Saving me from Adam. Owen83: Ex-boyfriend?

I gulped.

Live4Music: Yes. We broke up over the summer.  
More like, he completely crushed me and dumped me in a ten minute conversation over

the phone.

Owen83: I'm sorry. Live4Music: Thanks.

I was about to start my Spanish essay when he typed,

Owen83: He's an idiot for breaking up with you.  
How does he know he broke up with me? I thought. Do I really seem like the kind of

person who wouldn't dump her boyfriend?

Live4Music: I never said he broke up with me.  
Owen83: Didn't he?  
Live4Music: Umm...  
Owen83: I'm sorry. It's none of my business.  
Live4Music: It's fine. And he did. I'm just surprised you knew that.

Maybe he had already talked to Adam. Maybe it was just a coincidence. Either way,

Owen didn't respond for several minutes.

Owen83: I don't like the looks of that guy.  
I was flipping through my Spanish textbook, trying to motivate myself to navigate away

from talking to Owen to start my homework, but somehow I couldn't.

Live4Music: Why?  
Owen83: He thinks he owns you. He thinks you'll always come back to him.

I stared at the screen. Did he really think that? And if so, how did Owen know that? I decided not to act suspicious.

Live4Music: Well I won't. I'm done with boyfriends for now. Owen83: I see.

I bit my lip. This conversation was becoming awkward, not least because I could picture his perfect face on the other end in front of his computer screen, the corners of his lips twitching into that adorable smile that I turned into jelly just thinking about...  
Live4Music: I really should get to my Spanish homework. Bye, Owen.  
Owen83: See you tomorrow, Callie. :)

And then I signed off. I took a deep breath and started my essay. Before I even finished the first sentence, there was a knock on my bedroom door. I sighed.

"Come in!" I shouted, my fingers still poised over the keyboard.

It was my mom. She opened the door with a smile, carrying a plate full of food. Bless her.

"I figured you would want your dinner in your room tonight," she said, placing the plate on the desk next to my textbook. "Looks like you've got quite a load of homework."

"Yeah," I laughed. "It already feels like this year is going to be difficult." I meant that in more ways than she was aware of.

When she perched herself on the edge of my bed I knew we were in for a conversation. "Callie," she started.  
"Mom."  
"How's school going? I didn't get a chance to ask you yesterday, you've been so busy

with homework. After school yesterday and today you came home and locked yourself in your room."

I flinched. I knew I was acting less social than usual. Part of it was due to homework, but the more dominant reason had to do with the amount of thinking I had been doing for the past twenty-four hours.

"I know, I'm sorry."  
"Is everything alright?" She wasn't going to give up.  
"Of course." I tried to sound cheerful by raising my voice an octave.  
My sudden change of tone set her off into a frenzy of questions about friends, teachers,

and classes. I avoided the topic of Owen. My mom was famous for interrogating me about people at school. Even worse, her eyes always lit up at the mention of boys, which always called for a long conversation, one that I normally endured, unwillingly, for her benefit.

"Have you seen Adam?"  
I had been expecting this question, but I felt my body stiffen. She didn't seem to notice. "Er, yes," I replied warily.  
My mom's lips pursed. She hadn't been fond of Adam since the breakup. She had seen me

at my worst, and she didn't want me to end up back there. Still, I knew she felt like it was her duty to ask about him.

"And?" she continued.  
"Mom, I'd really rather not talk about it."  
"Was he mean to you?"  
"No."  
"Do you have any classes with him?"  
"No."  
"Are your...feelings for him still strong?"  
I winced.  
"Not as strong."  
"Well good," my mom's tone became more cheerful. "That's all I wanted to know."  
I sighed. I was glad she had asked the questions that intrigued her the most, but I really

wanted to drop the conversation. To avoid being rude, I shot a glance at my Spanish textbook, still laying open, inviting me to start my homework. My mom picked up on the hint.

"Oh!" She jumped up from the bed. "You're homework! And your dinner, I'm sure it's getting cold." Her bubbly personality was coming back.

"Thanks for dinner, mom."

She smiled once more and left my room, closing the door quietly behind her.  
I turned in my chair to face the computer again and took a bite of my chicken. I placed my hands on the keyboard again, prepared to write, when my phone vibrated angrily against my wooden desk.

So many interruptions.

I leaned over to read the name on the caller I.D.

Adam.

I tossed the cellphone onto my bed so the vibrating wouldn't distract me, and returned to my homework, which I attempted to concentrate on for the next hour.

The rest of the week passed in a blur of changing classes and doing homework. I saw very little of Owen except in English class, where I continued to sit next to him. Somehow I couldn't convince myself that anywhere else in the room would be a better place to spend the hour and a half. However, despite being so close to him every other day, we said very little to each other. Most of the communication between us took the form of shy smiles and awkward laughs. It was now clear that there was something strange going on between us, some unidentifiable tension. Everyone who saw us could tell, and Anna would not leave it alone. Every time she mentioned our 'chemistry' I laughed and rolled my eyes, but of course I knew exactly what she was referring to. The ache in my stomach whenever he walked into the room, the tingling that reached my fingers when he sent me a message on the computer, and, most recently, the choked up dry throat I'd gotten when he'd asked for my phone number on Friday in the parking lot – all of these things were proof that there was a kind of chemistry between us. When he had nonchalantly asked for my number by our cars, I had almost forgotten what they were, too concentrated on the fact that he, for some strange reason, was interested in contacting me. He had penned them on a slip of paper before shoving it into his jeans pocket.

The way his jeans fit his perfect long legs, and how his red v-neck shows off just enough of his chest...

But I was shaken awake from my daydream when he kindly said goodbye and told me to have a 'lovely' weekend before driving away.

It was Saturday morning, and I was finishing up some Trig problems in my room when my phone vibrated from across the room on my nightstand. I flew out of the chair and hurled myself across the room.

Could it be Owen? I thought excitedly, but my hopes were crushed when I saw Anna's name on the caller I.D.

I answered with a sigh.  
"Hello?"  
"Rise and shine!"  
"Anna, it's 10:45, I've been up for two hours already." "Oh, well great! Let's hang out today."

I thought about it for a couple seconds. I had a lot of homework to finish up, but I still had Sunday to help me. Maybe going out for a little while would be a good idea.

"Alright, what time?" I asked.  
"Noon. I'll meet you at the park by your house."  
"Okay, see you then."  
I hung up the phone and returned to my desk. I still had an hour and fifteen minutes

before I had to meet her, but I hadn't showered or even changed out of my pajamas yet. I stuffed my Trig homework into my textbook and tossed it aside, making my way to the shower.

At 11:50 I began walking to the park that was only about a block from my house. The weather was beautiful and sunny; not too hot, but not cool enough for a jacket either. I picked up pace as I saw Anna waving to me from the swings.

"Hi!" She greeted me happily as I plopped myself onto a swing.  
"How are you this morning?" I replied, kicking my feet off the ground to propel myself. "I'm fine." she answered dully. Her face suddenly lost its excited glow and she looked

straight ahead at the empty playground. She appeared to be deep in thought. How quickly her happy demeanor had changed.

"What's up?" I asked curiously.  
She shook her head and smiled again.  
"Nothing," she responded. "Just thinking about something my friend told me yesterday,

something odd."  
She was a fool if she thought I would allow her to stop there. Suddenly it was obvious

why she had invited me to hang out.  
"What friend? What did she say?" I sped up my swinging to match hers.  
"Alex. You know, the girl over in Vineland?"  
I nodded. Of course I knew Alex, she'd been to every one of Anna's birthday parties since

we were five years old. I was pretty sure Anna considered Alex another best friend.  
"Well," she continued. "we were on the phone last night and she was raving about this

new guy at their school, named Ty."  
My eyes were still watching the ground as I swung higher. When I didn't respond she

continued.  
"Apparently he's totally gorgeous, just like Owen."  
I looked at her.  
"Don't kids transfer to new schools all the time?"  
Except us, I thought. We've lived in the same place with the same people for sixteen

years.  
"I guess," she answered, slowing down her swinging. I slowed with her. "but the weirdest

thing is, one of Alex's friends up in Hopewell told her the same thing." "About a new student?"

"Yeah, and apparently they all have those pretty blue eyes."  
I laughed, "They're just blue eyes, Anna."  
"Are you crazy? Have you even looked at them? They're not just blue, they're almost

silver! I've never seen anyone else with the same ones before. They're totally unique." "Obviously not, if other people have them." I was fighting myself now, trying to make it

seem like I had no idea what the big deal was.  
Anna pursed her lips – she was getting agitated with me, I could tell.  
"Callie. The reason Alex told me about Ty was because of how unique he seemed. She

said she had never seen a guy who looked like him before, and when she described him to me, he sounded just like our Owen."

My heart fluttered and a smile played at the corners of my lips at the mention of our Owen.

"You don't find it strange at all?" Anna pressed.

I silently considered everything she had told me. Owen had the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. They were a blue, almost silver pool of color, and almost glass-looking – like liquid

crystal. I couldn't imagine anyone on the planet having the same perfect eyes. A shiver ran up my spine. When I didn't respond, she continued.

"They're all really polite too. And they dress nicely. You've seen how Owen dressed – always in nice pants and a formal top of some kind. I haven't seen him in jeans and a T-shirt once!"

I nodded.

"There were a lot of similarities between them all. I just thought you'd be interested to know."

I kept my eyes on the ground, swinging slowly now.  
"The one in Hopewell was the same, too?"  
"Yep. A girl, though. I think her name was Molly? I can't remember exactly."  
"It's a coincidence." I laughed lightly. This was silly, for us to be analyzing the new kids

in and around town. There couldn't be anything strange or unusual about three new students who all had blue eyes and dressed nicely.

"Maybe," Anna said. She stopped swinging and stared out into the distance.  
"Are you really concerned about it?"  
"It's just a little odd. No one new ever moves here. What are the chances that three

extremely similar people all moved around the same place at the same time?"  
I pondered that for a moment. All three areas were small enough that it was certainly

unusual, though not unheard of, for new students to arrive. And when they did, it was big news. "I'm sure it's a coincidence," I repeated, but I jumped off the swing quickly, my arms and

legs tingling.  
Anna shrugged and got up from her swing. We walked around the grassy area of the park,

my head miles away to wherever Owen was. I thought about his laugh, and how his eyes danced when he spoke. I thought about his voice calling my name through the parking lot on Friday when he summoned me to his car to get my phone number. As if my name was even worthy of his lips...

"Callie?" Anna demanded, pulling my arm to stop me.

I pinched my eyes shut and opened them wide again, releasing all thoughts of Owen. And of the others...the new students who had the same eyes as him but lived in different towns.

"Have you even been listening?" she sounded impatient.  
"Of course," I lied. I bit my lip.  
"So has he called you?"  
I shook my head quickly, disappointed that Owen hadn't called my number since he

asked for it. Anna looked skeptical.  
"But I thought you said you had three missed calls from him last week," she said. We

were walking again now.  
I looked at her, confused. I was sure Owen hadn't called me at all, let alone three times.

Then it dawned on me that the conversation Anna had thought she was having with me, which I had tuned out to think of Owen, had been about Adam.

"Oh, right!" I gathered my thoughts.

Get it together.

"Are you feeling alright?" she asked, concerned now. "Yeah, of course, I...um,"  
What am I trying to say?

"I should get home," I finished. "I have a lot of homework to do." I pulled my cell phone out of my back pocket and checked the time. We had been at the park for over an hour and I was getting hungry...and tired...and dizzy...

We said our goodbyes and I turned towards home. I walked quickly, yearning for the comfort of my room and the stability of the homework that was waiting for me - no, calling to me - from my desk.

I sat back down in my chair when I reached my room and opened my textbook back up. Okay, focus. No thinking about Owen or Adam, or the other new students...  
I pulled out my pencil and chewed on the eraser as I read the first Trig problem, but I was

jolted upright and alert at the sound of a message popping up on my computer screen.

Owen83: Hello.  
This was the second time I had tried to start my homework only to be distracted by

Owen, although I couldn't necessarily say I was disappointed by the interruption.

Live4Music: Hey.  
Owen83: I meant to ask you something the other day...

My breath caught in my chest as I waited.

Live4Music: Yes?  
Owen83: Your screen name – do you play an instrument?

I breathed out, relieved that the question was innocent.

Live4Music: Yes, I've played piano for almost 10 years. Owen83: Wow, impressive. I'd love to hear you play some time.

I stared at the screen. Really? I thought. I relished the idea of him standing behind me, listening and watching me playing a classical piece, or one of my favorite love ballads... Owen83: Callie? Are you still there?

I was stirred awake.

Live4Music: Yes! Sorry, that would be great. Of course you can hear me play. Owen83: Good. :)

I fought against my better judgment to tell him I really needed to get back to my homework, but it felt so good to talk to him. We continued talking for several minutes, mainly about school and what we thought about our classes.  
Owen83: What are your hobbies? Other than playing the piano.  
Live4Music: I ride horses. It's pretty much my life.  
Owen83: Ah, so you're an animal person.  
Live4Music: Yes, are you?  
Owen83: Not at all.  
Live4Music: Oh.

There was an awkward pause in our conversation as I absorbed that information.

Not an animal person.

That was completely different from myself. I'd been riding horses for almost as long as I'd played the piano, and I loved it more than just about anything. Although I didn't own my own horse, I spent a few days a week at my lesson barn riding many different horses. I decided I should change the topic of conversation.  
Live4Music: So...

I couldn't think of what to say.

Live4Music: What's your family like?  
He didn't respond for nearly five minutes.

Owen83: Pretty average, I guess. They'd like you, I think.  
Live4Music: Why's that?  
Owen83: Oh, I don't know. You seem really smart, always focused on school, doing homework.

How does he know when I'm doing homework? I've never told him...

Owen83: And you're very nice, of course. I was flattered.

Live4Music: Well, maybe I can meet them sometime.  
Clearly the wrong thing to say. His response popped up within five seconds.

Owen83: I don't think that's possible. I chewed my lip as I typed.

Live4Music: Oh, why?  
As I waited for his reply, I contemplated. Had I been too forward? Maybe I was reading

his signs wrong. Wasn't he flirting with me? And he had been staring at me on the first day, right? And every day since then?

Shut up, I thought to myself. You don't want another boyfriend. But still, friends meet each others' parents, right?

Owen83: It just won't happen.  
I left it at that. I was learning new things about Owen in this conversation, things that

confused me. He wasn't an animal person, and he was apparently adamantly against me meeting his family.

Fair enough, I decided. I was just about to tell him goodbye when he sent another message.

Owen83: Do you have plans tomorrow?  
Live4Music: No.  
Owen83: Great, let's get to know each other a little. I'll be at your house around 4:00.

And with that, he signed off. I didn't even get a chance to send him my address, how would he find where I lived? This conversation had sent many mixed signals and I wasn't sure how I felt. Giddy, of course, because I was going to be seeing him tomorrow, but confused and intimidated at the thought of being alone with him. I quickly shut down the computer to keep from being distracted, and finally started my Trig homework, desperately trying to keep my mind from wandering to whatever was going to happen tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Owen arrived at my house at exactly 4:00 pm, and the sight of his Mercedes through my bedroom window sent a spasm of excitement through my body. Luckily, the rest of my family was out for the afternoon, so I didn't need to worry about making awkward introductions. I had briefly explained to my parents that I was going out with a friend from school, but I had been very vague about who the person was and where we were going, in order to avoid being questioned further. I also didn‟t want my mom thinking this was a date, because it wasn‟t, right? We were just going to hang out – nothing romantic about it.

I quickly checked my reflection in the hall mirror just before the doorbell rang. I ran my fingers through my medium-length hair and smiled once at my reflection to be sure there was nothing in my teeth. I didn't know why I was so nervous, but I wanted this to be perfect. Satisfied

enough, I took a deep breath and opened the door, revealing the reality of a date I never would have expected in my wildest imagination.

Owen looked incredible.

He was wearing black dress pants with a white button down shirt, his sleeves rolled up just enough to see his forearm muscles. His beautiful dark hair was perfectly messy, a few strands hanging across his forehead. His blue eyes sparkled when he smiled at me. Was it possible they were even more beautiful than I remembered?

I looked down at his hands to see what he was holding - a single red rose. I gasped and looked up at him, my mouth wide open.

"I hope you like roses," he laughed as he handed it to me. He made a face. "I cut off the thorns before I came."

He cut off the thorns?

I held my breath as I carefully took the beautiful rose from him. No one had ever given me a rose before, and I thought it was incredibly romantic. No, it was sweet. Thoughtful. I had to stop thinking that this was a date, although I sincerely wished that it was.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Please, come in."

He took a step inside the door but then stopped suddenly. I saw a look of fear flash across his face, and it alarmed me. What could be wrong with coming inside? He pulled his foot back outside and his face returned to a peaceful smile.

"You go ahead, I'll wait right here."  
"Are you sure? Is everything okay?"  
"Yes, of course. I‟ll be here."  
He smiled as I retreated to the kitchen to put the rose in water. I quickly grabbed a thin

vase from a cabinet and filled it, then slid the gorgeous rose inside and placed it on the window sill about the sink. I hurried back to the front door where Owen was leaning casually against the door frame waiting for me. I had only been gone for a few seconds, but it had felt like an hour.

"Ready to go?" he asked.  
"Sure, where are we going?" I closed the door behind me as we started walking to his car. He walked around to the passenger side of the sleek Mercedes and opened my door.  
"Oh, I was thinking an early dinner? Maybe a walk through town?"  
I slid into the leather seat and smoothed out my skirt as he walked around the front of the

car to the driver's side. I had chosen to wear a simple beige skirt, almost knee-length, with a green sweater. I had been hoping my ensemble wasn't too dressy, and when I saw what he was wearing, my worries were dismissed. If anything, my new fear was looking absolutely out of place next to him. How was it possible for a person to look so heartbreakingly perfect all the time? I silently pouted as I waited for him to get in the car, and then returned my expression to a pleasant smile.

He strapped himself into his seat and started the car. As he pulled away from the curb, I realized how quiet it was.

"Don't you listen to music?" I asked smiling.  
He turned to look at me with a surprised expression.  
"Oh, um, sure. Of course I do," he seemed nervous. He fumbled with the radio dial,

grinning embarrassingly when he couldn't find a station he was satisfied with. "May I?" I asked through giggles, noticing his struggle.

He pulled his hand away from the dial and smiled, looking ahead at the road. I expertly turned the knob to my favorite station and turned the volume up just enough so it served as comfortable background music.

After a nice ride, Owen pulled into the parking lot at Larison's, one of my favorite restaurants in town. He was on my side of the car opening my door before I had realized he was out of his seat. I gathered my purse, and he extended a hand to lift me out of the seat. My heart fluttered as our hands touched and he effortlessly pulled me out of the car. He closed the door behind me and pointed his key at the hood. The headlights flashed and the locks inside the car clicked. He put his hand on the small of my back and led me to the front door of the restaurant, where a teenage waitress met us. She led us to a booth along the back wall, and Owen extended his arm as a gesture for me to slide in before he took his seat. I couldn't help but blush every time he used his charm. He was such a gentleman that at times it didn't seem real to me. His manners were impeccable.

The waitress set our menus down on the table and took our drink orders, then scurried away. As we decided what to order I noticed Owen's eyes bouncing from his menu to me and back again. The one time I caught his eyes, he chuckled and continued studying the menu. I finished looking and set the menu down next to my napkin. He watched me do this and did the same, folding his hands on the table in front of him.

"Have you been here before?" I asked him curiously.  
He shook his head, keeping his eyes focused on me.  
"Never. I've only lived here for a few weeks, so I haven't really explored the town yet."

He picked up his glass of water as the waitress set it down. I watched him take a tiny sip and set it back on the table.

"Where did you move here from?" I couldn't understand why a family would move to a new place in the middle of their son's high school career.

His expression was thoughtful as he answered.  
"Tallahassee, Florida."  
I nodded, and took a sip of my own water. The waitress returned with a basket of bread

and asked for our orders. Owen gestured towards me.  
"I'll have a house salad, please," I said, handing her the menu.  
She jotted it down on her notepad and looked at Owen, but he was still watching me. "That's all?" His question was directed at me.  
I nodded.  
"I'm not that hungry."  
Owen shrugged and turned to look at the waitress. His expression was pleasant, friendly,

but I couldn't help but notice that he didn't give her the same smile he gave me.  
You're imagining things, I thought. Get real.  
I shook my head to clear my mind as he spoke.  
"I'll have the same," he said, his eyes flicking back at me. He held his menu up for her to

take. She smiled and walked away. It didn't take a genius to realize she would rather be anywhere else in the world rather than at work. I looked back at Owen.

"That's quite the move," I said to him, returning to our conversation. I pulled a piece of bread out of the basket and buttered it lightly.

He nodded and watched me take a bite. When I realized he wasn't planning on responding, I decided to push a little more.

"Why did you come to New Jersey?"

He shrugged slightly and leaned back against his seat.

"My dad was assigned to a new job." The answer seemed obvious, but it took him a while to answer.

In Chester? I wondered.

I chewed my bread carefully, wondering what possible job his father could have gotten that would take him from the capital city of Florida to the tiny New Jersey town of Chester. I couldn't think of any big businesses around that I knew of. Then again, he didn't necessarily have to live in Chester just to go to the same high school as me. He could live in a surrounding town – there were a few bigger towns within just a few miles.

After several minutes of mindless chatter, the waitress returned with our salads. After making sure we were settled with everything we had ordered, she returned to the kitchen and we picked up our forks to begin eating.

"Tell me about your family," Owen said as he examined his salad.

That caught me off guard. I took a bite of my salad and set the fork down, wiping my mouth with my napkin.

"Um, well, I have a younger brother named Chris. He's nine years old, and he plays hockey," I started, noticing that Owen was focused on me, genuinely listening.

I continued, "And we have a dog named Miles, he's a Corgi."  
He made a face.  
"Oh, right," I said, picking up my fork again. "I forgot you don't like animals." I still

didn‟t understand how a person could so blatantly dislike animals, and it was certainly not something I could relate to at all. I loved horses, dogs, cats – pretty much every animal. But if he wasn‟t a fan of them, I wouldn‟t question him about it.

His face relaxed and he laughed slightly. I watched as he picked up a small piece of lettuce with his fork and carefully placed it in his mouth. He chewed for a long time, and then made a funny face as he swallowed.

"You don't like it?" I asked.  
His eyes grew wide and nodded quickly.  
"It's fine," he quipped, placing his fork back down. He changed the subject quickly to my

interests, namely my piano playing. I told him about the types of songs I played, and he listened intently, nodding whenever I would mention an arrangement or composer he was familiar with. I looked up from my food at one point to find him looking intently at my face.

"Your eyes," he said slowly. He looked like he was studying them. I flashed my eyes toward my plate quickly.  
What could be so interesting about them?  
He cleared his throat, noting my embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "It's just, there's a brown spot in your left eye."  
I looked back up at him.  
"Yes," I replied with a nervous laugh. I cracked my knuckles under the table

uncomfortably.  
"What is it?" He was truly interested in my eye for some reason.  
"I don't know." I picked up my fork again. "My parents always said it was just a

birthmark." I shrugged it off. "People always think I've got dirt in it or something." I laughed, but his face remained serious. The pained expression I had seen when he had followed me from school the other day returned to his face and I wondered again what had upset him.

We finished our salads, well, I finished my salad. Owen barely touched his, except for a few pieces of lettuce and a couple carrots. To look at the plate you would think that he had only ordered the dish as a courtesy to me, and maybe he did. It was weird, though, how little he ate. Most teenage boys were known for gobbling down entire pizzas or huge cheeseburgers and fries without so much as a hiccup. All the guys I had ever known were eating machines, atomic stomachs, bottom-less pits.

The waitress brought the check and Owen held up his credit card between two fingers, without even glancing at the bill. She took it from him and cleared our plates as she left. When she brought it back for him we stood up and he once again placed his hand on my back as we left, thanking the waitress on the way out. I noticed as soon as we were outside he sniffled and brushed his hand over his nose as if he smelled something bad, however I didn't notice any bad smells. In fact, the only thing I could smell was the one I associated with the Fall season. When the leaves changed colors and fell off the trees, there was a crisp smell in the air that filled my nostrils.

Definitely not something I would consider a bad smell, I thought.

Then again, maybe he just had a cold. Either way, he noticed me looking at him curiously and snapped his hand back down by his side, smiling again.

"Let's take a walk," he said before we reached the car. "It's a lovely evening."

I followed him as he walked past Larison's and we turned the corner. We walked past antique shops and cafes, looking into store windows as we talked. The streets were bustling with families and couples out shopping and walking together, popping in and out of restaurants and coffee shops.

"This town is absolutely adorable," Owen remarked, looking admiringly at the windows.

I watched his eyes gleaming in the reflection of the street lights and found myself mesmerized. How was it that every time I looked at him he seemed more beautiful than before? He glanced down at me with smiling eyes, noticing my stare. I quickly turned my head and gave an embarrassed chuckle. He laughed and threw an arm around me gently, squeezing my shoulder. If it hadn't been obvious before, now he could definitely sense my feelings about him. How embarrassing.

We walked for over an hour, admiring the stores and the people, and of course I continued to admire him – although I attempted to be more discreet. People glanced up at us as we passed, but their attention was held on him rather than me. Nobody could deny how beautiful he was, but he seemed not to notice it at all. His attention was either focused on the many store windows, or – to my pleasure – me. We didn't touch the whole time we walked; he kept his hands in his jacket pockets and I kept mine by my side, but the desire to reach out and touch his hand was almost unbearable. My hands tingled with the urge, and I fought myself to control it.

When we returned to his car it was dark, and the temperature had dropped several degrees. I was shivering slightly, half from nerves, when we reached the passenger door, and he noticed. His eyes were kind and he was silent as he opened the back door and pulled out a soft leather jacket that had been laying on the seat. He gently draped it over my shoulders and opened my door for me to climb in. It took every bit of self control I had to keep from smiling like an idiot, so I turned my face away and muttered "Thanks," as I situated myself in the car.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, I found myself regretting that the evening had gone by so quickly. The clock read 8:12.

Could we really have been out for four hours?

It was hard to imagine, but I realized that our conversations had caused the night to fly by. I silently cursed myself for not being able to come up with a logical excuse to stay out longer.

He drove carefully back to my house, always staying just at the speed limit. I was amazed that even his driving skills could be classified as perfect, along with everything else I had seen him do.

We reached the front of my house and my parents' car was in the driveway. Once again, Owen was opening my door before I even realized we had stopped the car, and I was reluctant to take his hand and climb out. If I could, I would have stayed in that car with him as long as I could. But I forced myself to place my hand in his – there were the chills again – and allow him to pull me up in front of him on the pavement. He closed the door and stood there looking at me, his crystal eyes gleaming in the moonlight. I started to shake off the jacket that he had loaned me, but he gently pulled it back up over my shoulders.

"Hold on to it," he instructed softly.

I nodded and thanked him, nervously fidgeting in front of him. Just then, he pulled one hand up from his side and touched his fingers to my jawbone, lightly stroking it from just below my ear to my chin, barely touching my skin. The electricity pulsed through my body. This was the first time he had really touched me, the first time the warmth of his skin had brushed mine that way. My eyes closed slowly as I enjoyed the feeling of his fingertips grazing my skin, and then I opened them again when I felt his forefinger resting just underneath my chin. One corner of his mouth played into a thoughtful smile, different than the smile I had become used to. His expression was intense, focused, but for the first time it didn't intimidate me. Instead, it had a calming, relaxing effect that left my legs feeling numb. He leaned in close to my face, enough so that I could feel his cool breath against my cheek. His mouth hovered next to the side of my face as he whispered into my ear,

"You're beautiful."

My breath caught in my chest. Chills raced up and down my spine, up my neck, ringing in my ears. My throat suddenly felt dry and my stomach knotted in a frenzy of nervous and outrageously excited energy. I bit my lip to keep myself from squealing, and willed myself to keep it discreet that I longed to throw my arms around his neck and kiss him right there.

He gently pulled his fingertips away from my face and smiled one last time before he led me to the front door. We stopped just feet in front of the door and he placed a hand on my waist.

"I'll see you tomorrow in English," he said softly. Could it be that his voice was even more beautiful and alluring than ever before?

I nodded and said goodbye, thanking him for the evening – stumbling awkwardly over my words - and then he disappeared into his car and drove away. I stood on the doorstep for several minutes, replaying the evening in my mind. From the single rose he had handed me earlier, to the delicate way he had touched my face just moments before, the night had been so much more than I had imagined. How was he so capable of turning my insides into mush just by looking at me? How was his touch so different from any other guy who had laid their hands on me? How was he so perfect, so intoxicating, so addicting?

Before I turned the doorknob to let myself inside, I reminded myself of one small, but crucial, detail.

You are focusing on other things this year, Callie, I scolded myself. You were hurt over the summer...badly.

I willed myself not to think about the pain associated with my breakup with Adam. I had thought about the pain too many times within the last few months, and it always had the same depressing affect on me. I pinched my eyes shut, expecting the sad memories to rush through me as they always did at the thought of Adam's name, but I felt nothing. I didn't get the same sudden, harsh pounding in my heart as I always had before. I couldn't picture Adam's face in my mind, I couldn't remember the fun dates, the laughs, the silly butterfly feeling I had had with him at the beginning of our relationship.

All I could see was Owen.

I was addicted to him. Tonight had been amazing – so much more than I had hoped for. Owen seemed perfect in so many ways, and the way he sent my heart racing...

As I turned to open the door I promised myself I would not, could not, fall for Owen. But as I glanced through the kitchen on my way to the stairs I caught a glimpse of the rose standing beautifully on top of the window sill, and I realized it was too late to make that promise.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next few weeks of school flew by in a rush of homework, horses, piano, and Owen. We had started spending time together regularly, although nothing official between us was really going on. We usually went out to eat, walked through town, or saw movies. I had been able to dodge the interrogations my parents put me through; after they had seen the rose the morning after my first evening with Owen, naturally they were full of questions. I refused to consider it as a date, as my mom referred to it, but was it?

The more time Owen and I spent together, the less time I could stand being away from him. Almost every night, we would either instant message or talk on the phone, and I was becoming addicted to his voice. I thrived on being around him, and I couldn't imagine anyone more perfect for me anywhere in the world. Anna certainly noticed the amount of time we spent together, because she referred to my behavior as "borderline obsessive." However, we were not dating, and the only physical contact we ever had was the slight brushing of his hand on the small of my back or the occasional soft touch of his fingertips on my face, which only ever lasted a few seconds. I was content, though. I was keeping my word that I wouldn't get involved in a relationship, although I spent every waking moment thinking about his face, his voice, his touch, and most of my nights were spent dreaming of the time we spent together.

There were two things about Owen that concerned me, however. First of all, his behavior whenever I would bring up his family never changed. He was completely adamant that I would not meet them, and I didn't understand why. "They're odd, unconventional," he would say. "You know how embarrassing parents can be." He would always shake the explanation off and chuckle, but it didn't make sense to me. I had met all of my close friends' parents, and some of them had been pretty out there, so I didn't understand why it was such a big deal for me to meet his, especially because it was clear that he felt strongly about me. I never pressed the issue though, for fear of upsetting him.

The other thing that bothered me was his constant interest in my eye. Almost every time he looked at me, he would either turn away when he made eye contact with it, or he would stare intently for several seconds.

What could be so fascinating? I would ask myself.  
"It's just a birthmark," I always told him, only to have him change the subject quickly.

I slammed my locker shut after pulling my Government textbook out and stuffing it into my backpack. Suddenly, I felt someone's hands on my waist and warm breath on my exposed neck.

Owen.  
I turned around excitedly, only to throw myself back against the lockers in surprise. ...Adam.  
"Callie," he started, reaching for me again as I dodged to the side. "I've noticed you've

been spending a lot of time with that Owen guy.  
"So?" I snapped, already starting to walk towards class. He kept pace with me easily. "So, we never got to talk about, you know, us."  
My face hardened and I spun around to face him, my face inches from his.  
"There is no us, Adam," I nearly yelled. "There never will be again."  
A flash of shock whipped across his face, but swiftly returned to normal. He reached out

again.  
"Callie..."

I pulled my hand briskly away from him. My jaw was clenched in anger, and I could feel my eyes getting ready to tear up.

Not here, I scolded myself. Not in front of him.

He started to say something, but I wasn't listening. I turned quickly away from him, leaving him standing helpless in the hallway, watching me leave. I walked briskly up the stairs to Mr. Hagler's room. Before I rounded the corner into the classroom, someone pulled on my arm and spun me around. I balled my fists in anger as I expected to see that Adam had chased me.

I gasped.  
"Owen!" I couldn't contain the excitement and surprise in my voice.  
He spun me towards him and pulled me into his embrace. Once again, the feeling of his

hands on me sent familiar shivers up and down my back.  
"You weren't in English class!" I accused him. I left out the part about how I had missed

him terribly and wondered where he had been the whole time.  
"Doctors appointment," he said smoothly.  
Did he really think I couldn't see through the age-old 'doctors appointment' excuse? I

looked at him skeptically, and he laughed.  
"Okay, you caught me," he grinned. "I took a mental health morning, but I'm sorry I

missed you in class."  
I frowned at him, but it was short-lived.

"I'm just glad you're here now," I said happily. I tried to pull away to go to class, but that would mean leaving him.

"I was thinking," he started, still holding onto my arms with that gentle touch. "Do you think I could meet your family?"

I was stunned. After all the conversations we had had about how me meeting his family wasn't a good idea, why on earth did he suddenly want to meet mine? I thought about it quickly while he waited for an answer.

"Sure," I replied. Maybe if I allowed him to meet my parents it would convince him to let me meet his. It was a thought, at least.

"Great," he smiled. "When?"

I looked around anxiously as more people poured into the classroom. Class would start soon.

"How's this Friday night?" I asked. It was only two nights away, and I was sure my parents would be excited to have him over. After all, they hadn't stopped questioning me about him since they had noticed the rose, although I never answered their questions with as much detail as they would have liked.

"Perfect!" he answered enthusiastically, letting my arms go. I was sad to watch him pull his hands back to his sides.

"Have fun in government," he said sarcastically. He knew how much I hated it. I paused for a moment as he walked away, looking back once to smile and wave. I walked into the classroom and took my usual seat. I tried desperately to focus on the lecture Mr. Hagler was giving, but my mind was wrapped up in other things. Owen was going to meet my family, which meant that my family was about to meet the most beautiful, polite, and perfect person any parent could hope their daughter would bring home. Things had to be perfect, and it was only two days away.

Friday came much quicker than I had expected, and before I knew it I was adding the finishing touches to my makeup in my bathroom as my parents set the table and cooked dinner downstairs. I looked at the clock in my bedroom. It was 5:45. Owen would be arriving at 6:00, and, based on recent history, he would be pulling up exactly on time. I did everything I could to keep myself calm as I finished getting ready. My parents had been delighted when I'd asked them if Owen could join us for dinner. My mom had looked at the rose that still sat at the window and grinned at me.

"I can't wait to meet him!" she had exclaimed.

I quickly ran a brush through my hair and spritzed some perfume on my neck and then my wrists, rubbing them together nervously. It was 5:50. Only ten minutes until he would be here.  
I shut off the light in my bedroom and bounded down the stairs, straightening my blue blouse and rubbing a hand along my gray slacks to make sure there were no wrinkles.

I turned into the kitchen, where I saw my dad whistling and hovering over the stove, and my mom carrying plates and silverware out into the dining room. I fidgeted nervously as I walked around the kitchen.

"Callie, relax!" My mom laughed, reading my thoughts. "I'm sure we'll love him."

A few minutes later the doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock on the oven timer – 6:00 on the dot. I smiled to myself as I pulled the door open to reveal Owen and his perfection. He greeted me and handed me a bouquet of roses tied together with a gold ribbon.

"Now, those took a while to cut the thorns off of," he laughed as I welcomed him inside.

"You know you don't have to do that, right?" I said with a wry smile, overjoyed that he brought me more roses.

"I wouldn't want you to get a cut," he smiled. I blushed, and took his coat to hang up on the rack by the door.

"Owen!" My mom yelled from the kitchen. She appeared around the corner and rushed over to greet him. "It's so nice to finally meet you!"

He smiled warmly and offered his hand, which she accepted and shook. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Creighton."  
Oh, that voice.  
"Callie just talks about you all the time, I feel like I already know you!" I shot my mom a warning glare.

"She can't possibly talk about me as much as I've raved about her," he laughed, glancing sideways at me. "My parents have heard quite a great deal about Callie."

My heart raced as he spoke, but I frowned at the mention of his parents.

My mom led us through the foyer to the kitchen where my dad was cooking. He greeted Owen warmly and they shook hands. Chris came out of the living room to meet him and immediately yanked Owen's arm to show him his video games. Owen chuckled and allowed himself to be pulled away. While he was in there I took the opportunity to scold my mom.

"Do you think we could stay away from embarrassing me tonight?" I begged. "Please."

My mom giggled and apologized, but I wasn't convinced that she fully understood my warning.

"Please," I repeated, my eyes bouncing from my mom to my dad. "He's important." "He's very handsome," she whispered.  
"I know," I breathed, just as he came rushing into the kitchen suddenly.  
We all looked up, alarmed.

"You, you have a dog, don't you?" he stammered. His eyes were wide, panicked. "Oh, shoot," I hissed.  
How could I forget that he didn't like animals?  
But I hadn't known he was afraid of them.

I should have known to lock Miles away while Owen was here.

"Sorry!" I exclaimed as I raced out of the room to look for Miles, but I didn't see him. I shouted from another room,

"Owen, where did you see him?"

"I didn't," he called back, seemingly calming down. "I just, I just re-remembered you said you had a dog." Nope, the panic was still there.

I rushed up the stairs, eager to find Miles, and I located him laying on top of my parents bed, dozing. I went over to him and patted his head, waking him up.

"Sorry, boy, but you're going to have to stay away for tonight," I cooed. I picked him up in my arms and carried him to my room, where I laid him on my bed and shut the door. I brushed off the dog hair that was now stuck to my blouse as I skipped back down the stairs. I reentered the kitchen, where my parents and Owen were talking. He appeared to have regained his composure.

That's cute, he's just afraid of dogs.

I had to stifle a giggle as I crept up beside him and put a hand on his back. "Miles is safely locked away," I said in a mock-serious tone.  
He smiled weakly and wrapped an arm around my waist.  
"Thanks," he said, embarrassed. "and I'm sorry."

"Don't be!" I pushed him away playfully and poured drinks for everyone as my parents continued their conversation with him.

When we all entered the dining room for dinner, Owen pulled my chair out and I sat lightly on the cushion, so it was easy for him when he pushed it back in. He let his hand graze my shoulder as he stepped behind me to his seat, and I smiled at him. My parents noticed the gesture and beamed at each other and then at me.

Dinner went even better than I had imagined. Owen had no problem dazzling my parents - and me - with his charm and polite manners. He complimented my dad's chicken, and when we were all finished eating he engaged my parents in a conversation about recent headlining news. They seemed impressed by his ability to talk to adults so easily, and even I wondered how he was able to make such a good impression. The sense of pride that I felt sitting next to him could not even be described.  
After dinner, Owen and I helped my parents clear the table, and then he and I sauntered into the living room. He sat on the couch and patted the seat next to him. I plopped down happily and curled my feet underneath me. We sat for several minutes, his arm around me, his fingers softly combing through my hair. My cheek rested on his shoulder as we sat, relishing the moment of being there, undisturbed, together. I closed my eyes, breathing in his sweet scent. It was a beautiful aroma that I had never smelled before, and it intoxicated my senses. The leather jacket he had lent me, which sat upstairs in my room, smelled just like it – a constant reminder of him, and, luckily for me, it hadn't faded yet.

Slowly, he took his hand and placed it softly under my chin. He pulled my face up gently, so we were looking deep into each others' eyes. The grimace I was expecting to cross his face as it always did when he looked into my left eye, never appeared. Instead, his focus fluttered down to my lips for a brief moment and then back to my eyes, before he slowly leaned towards me, his breath becoming stronger, sweeter, the closer he came.

It felt like a dream when he pressed his lips against mine. My eyes remained open as soon as they touched, but when I stared into his piercing liquid eyes, I had to close them. They overpowered me, and I needed to relax. The last thing I wanted was for him to realize how forcibly I was restraining myself as he kissed me slowly, gently, but with a passion I had never felt before. One of his hands stroked my hair, while the other one caressed my back and moved up slowly to my face. I allowed my fingertips to creep up the back of his neck and lock themselves into his hair. This was how a kiss was supposed to feel. It was exhilarating. It was magical. It was absolutely terrifying.  
It was over too soon, and he softly pulled away, although he face lingered close to me for a moment. He released my hair from his fingers and I did the same, folding them in my lap and looking at the ground, blushing uncontrollably.

Please don't let him see how much I loved that, I thought.

I needed to act like that kiss didn't have the effect on me that it actually did. But who was I kidding? Anyone would be able to tell that my stomach was doing flips and my heart was pounding a million beats a second. Owen could definitely tell. He laughed that beautiful, kind laugh and pulled me gracefully onto his lap. I burrowed against his chest, once again breathing in the aroma that made me dizzy.

"I should go," he whispered after several minutes. "It's getting late." I turned to look at the clock on the wall.  
10:45? How did time fly by so fast? I shook my head from confusion. "Alright," I muttered.

He lifted me up effortlessly and rose off the couch, still holding me in his arms, then placed me on my feet gently in front of him. He cupped my face in his hands as he spoke.

"Thank you for tonight, Callie." He spoke clearly but quietly. He brushed my hair back with both hands.

"You're welcome," I breathed. I could barely talk. That kiss had left me breathless, speechless, almost motionless. It took a significant amount of thought and planning to be able to walk him into the kitchen to say goodbye to my parents.

When we stood outside the front door in the cold air, he touched a hand to my face again and leaned down.

Oh, God, I thought.

He softly touched his lips against mine, the same electric current rushing through my body, and then silently retreated back to his car. I stood for a few seconds, watching his car turn out of the driveway and disappear down the street. I wanted to chase him. I wanted him to turn around and race back up the driveway. I wanted him to lift me back into his arms and spin me around, kissing me until we both felt dizzy and fell to the ground, laughing and enjoying the embrace, the closeness.

I locked the front door when I returned inside and said goodnight to my parents, thanking them for letting Owen come over. They seemed overjoyed with him, and Chris raved about how nice Owen was.

"Good pick, Cal," my mom teased me.

I rolled my eyes and laughed, then ran up the stairs to my room. Forgetting that Miles was still in there, I was startled when he came leaping through the doorway and scurried down the stairs. I skipped over to my desk and picked up my cell phone, which had been laying there all night. Only two missed calls from Adam. Not bad compared to the four missed calls and three text messages he'd sent me yesterday. I laughed and tossed the phone back onto the desk. I wasn't going to think about Adam now – in fact, I wasn't even sure I would be capable of thinking of Adam after the incredible night I'd had. I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face in the bathroom, then flung the door shut behind me as I hurried back into my room. I grabbed Owen's leather jacket off my desk chair and in one swift movement, jumped onto my bed, rolling over to envelope the jacket in my arms. I buried my face in the cool leather, breathing in Owen. The scent was a combination of vanilla and peppermint, the most amazing thing I'd ever smelled before. A smile played at my lips as I rolled over on my back and laid the jacket out over my chest.

I couldn't fool myself any longer. I had to stop pretending that I wasn't completely crazy about Owen. I had to stop denying that he was perfect for me, that we were perfect for each other. There was a certain magnetic force that attracted me to him no matter where he was. His eyes had a power over me that left me defenseless against him. I could only relate the feeling to eating a piece of chocolate, and savoring its sweet taste, but all too soon it melts in your mouth and is gone, traces of it lingering in your mouth, leaving you wishing for more.

He had won my parents over in a night. He had completely captivated me with his irresistible smile and charm, the way he was such a gentleman, the way he treated me like I was the only girl who existed. When he looked at me I knew he really saw me. His eyes seared through mine and delved deep inside me to my very core. His touch left the hairs on my arms dancing, my legs tingling, and my heart throbbing. It hurt to look at him, he was so beautiful. It hurt to know that I was nothing compared to him, yet for some reason he saw something inside me that was worth his affections. He seemed to understand me, to know what I was thinking before I thought it. These thoughts raced through my brain in a frenzy and it was all I could do to keep from screaming with excitement and pure joy.

My phone vibrated loudly against my wooden desk, and I jumped up to retrieve it. I flipped it open and read the text message.

"Sweet dreams. Love, Owen."

I pressed the phone to my chest and flipped the light switch off so it was dark in my room. I fell back onto the bed and breathed out slowly.

This was it. Promise or no promise, Owen had my heart. He had come into my life when I had least expected it and healed the emotional wounds that had been left over from Adam. Owen was so different from Adam. Something in his eyes, those perfect, heartbreakingly beautiful, eyes, told me he wouldn't hurt me. I trusted Owen with everything I had inside me, and I had only known him for a few months.

I didn't want this feeling to go away. I wouldn't let it. No matter what stood in our way, I knew what I wanted. It was made perfectly clear to me that all I really wanted was Owen Braxton.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The annoying sound of hammering outside my house woke me up. I lazily flopped over in my bed to look at my bedside clock. It read 10:28.

Wow, I thought. Sleep in much?

I rubbed my tired eyes with the backs of my hands and yawned. My bed was so warm and comfortable, that the idea of crawling out of it was not exciting. I sighed and pulled the covers off of myself, sliding off the bed and onto the cold floor. My feet stung with the cold, so I pulled a pair of socks out of my dresser drawer and slipped them on. I threw on a fuzzy sweatshirt hanging off the end of my bed and made my way to the window to open the blinds and welcome in the sunshine, hoping that would wake me up.

When the blinds shot up – and after my eyes adjusted to the bright sun – I looked down at the front yard and found Owen. He and my dad were both kneeling over a pile of wood, and they were hammering and nailing away. I had no idea what they were doing, but I was shocked to find Owen there. A smile jumped to my face and a squeal of excitement escaped my lips.

It had been three weeks since the night Owen had come to my house for dinner and met my family for the first time. Ever since then, to say I was crazy about him would have been a huge understatement. Owen was the only thing I thought about, the only thing I dreamed about. The feeling I got when I spotted him at school, or when he hugged me was indescribable. And every time we kissed, I felt like I was transported to a place where he and I were the only two people in existence. He still gave me butterflies in my stomach, and truthfully, they became more and more noticeable every time I saw him. At this point, I think it was safe to say that I was completely over Adam, despite his relentless attempts to contact me. I only had eyes for Owen.

Although we weren‟t officially dating, everyone at school knew we were together. People always watched in awe when we walked through the halls together, whispering and smiling – girls‟ eyes sparkled with jealousy every time we were near them. I felt an enormous sense of pride being next to him, and Anna was overjoyed that Owen and I had finally admitted our feelings to each other.

I raced down the stairs as fast as I could, eager to get to Owen. When I reached for the doorknob, I heard my mom‟s voice come from the kitchen.

"Callie?"  
I turned, unwillingly, and found her smiling at me from behind the kitchen counter. "Surprised that he‟s here?" She seemed amused.  
"I am," I said, walking into the kitchen now. "What‟s he doing here?"  
She handed me a mug of hot chocolate and I graciously accepted it. It was November

now, and the cold weather was starting to make itself known. My house was freezing. "He‟s helping dad with some yard work. It‟s so cute how they‟re bonding!"

I choked on my hot chocolate.

"Dad‟s making him do yard work?" I nearly yelled, and started to get up from the stool I‟d been sitting on.

"Owen offered," she answered with a smile. "You know how your dad is with manual labor..."

I cringed at the memory of my dad nearly falling off of our roof one year when he was hanging up Christmas lights. Another memory of him hammering a nail through his hand when he was building our fence flashed through my mind.

"See?" My mom could tell I was remembering my not-so-handy father‟s rough experiences. "He needs help." She laughed and sipped her coffee.

I groaned.

"I need to go save him. Or at least help." I got up from the counter and started for the door.

"Callie?"  
"Yeah?"  
"You might want to make yourself a little more presentable, honey."  
That was her polite way of telling me I looked like a mess because I just woke up. I

walked over to the hall mirror and startled myself by my reflection. Unattractive red splotches marked my face, and bed sheet lines crossed my cheeks. I had deep circles under my eyes and my hair looked like it had been through a tornado. I threw my mom a thankful look and she laughed as I dashed up the stairs.

Moments later I reappeared at the bottom of the stairs – makeup on my face and my hair in a neat ponytail. I had even changed into a fresh outfit fit for working in the yard. I turned toward my mom in the kitchen, who was still standing at the counter with her coffee, now flipping through pages of a magazine.

"Much better," she said, offering a thumbs-up.

"Thanks!" I said, as I spun around and threw the door open. The noise grabbed Owen‟s attention, and he looked up from the wood he was hammering and smiled when his eyes met mine.

"Well, good morning, sleeping beauty!"  
I rolled my eyes at my incredibly handsome prince.  
"Good morning," I said as I walked over to him. My dad wasn‟t in the front yard, so there

was no need to feel embarrassed when Owen met me halfway and scooped me into his arms, planting a soft kiss on my lips. My knees went weak at the feeling. Although weeks had gone by since our first kiss, every time was a whole new experience for me, and it was always better than I had remembered. My skin tingled at the sensation of his cool breath against my neck, as his face lingered by mine for a moment. I loved moments like this. Owen always made things feel romantic whenever we were alone, even if it was only for a few minutes. Sometimes it would take the form of looking deep into each others‟ eyes. Other times, he would simply lean his face in close to mine and tease me with small kisses. Whatever it was, our few sensual moments like

this electrocuted my body and made my heart race. It was moments like this when it was clear how much he meant to me – as if I would need that reminder.

He pulled away slowly after a few seconds – much too soon for my taste, but he held my hand in his and lifted it to his mouth, kissing it gently. His eyes penetrated mine, the cool liquid blue intoxicating me. My dad walked around the side of the house and I pulled my hand away from Owen‟s. I noticed a smile creep up on his face at this gesture.

"Morning, Cal!" My dad greeted. "Look who‟s here to help out!"

"I noticed," I said, looking back at Owen, who was still looking at me. "You really shouldn‟t have made him do this, dad."

"Made him?" My dad seemed surprised. "Tell her, Owen! Tell her how you offered!" They both laughed and Owen returned to his pile of wood.  
"I did offer, Callie. Your dad had mentioned to me some of the things he was planning to

do around the yard, so I offered my assistance." His eyes flickered up to me.  
"Oh," I started. "Well, that was...really nice of you."  
My dad looked proud as he dropped some more wood next to Owen and picked up a

hammer.  
"What are you working on?" I asked.  
"The mailbox needs some help," my dad answered, nodding his head towards the road. I

turned my head to look at the mailbox and, sure enough, it needed an enormous amount of help. The box itself was sitting crooked, and the wooden post supporting it looked like it was about to fall down. It was leaning so far to the left, I thought a slight breeze might knock it completely over.

"Anything I can do to help?"

My dad seemed to be considering my usefulness for a few seconds and then he shook his head.

"Thanks, sweetie, but I think Owen and I have got it under control. There‟s not much left to do, actually."

"How long have you been here?" My question was now directed toward Owen.  
He glanced at his watch and answered, "About three hours."  
I gaped at him, horrified. Who in their right mind wanted to do yard work and mailbox

repairs at 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday? He laughed at my expression and got up from the ground again. He pulled me into a hug and kissed my forehead.

"How about lunch when I‟m finished with this?" he asked.  
"Sounds great!" I answered, excited that he would be done by lunch time.  
"Perfect," he said, and he began to release me, but I felt how cold his bare arms were and

I pulled him close again.  
"Are you crazy?" I asked, shocked that he was wearing a t-shirt outside in November.

"You‟re freezing cold!" I rubbed my hands up and down his smooth arms, trying to provide warmth.

He laughed again. "I have a jacket, see? It‟s over there." He pointed to the stairs leading up to the porch, where his jacket had been haphazardly tossed in a heap.

"Owen!" I playfully smacked his arm and retrieved the jacket. "Put it on."  
"Mom, I‟m not cold," he whined playfully.  
"Really, Callie, it‟s not that cold once you‟ve been working for a while," my dad piped

up from the ground, where he was still nailing pieces of wood together. I noticed that he had rolled his sleeves up past his elbows. I shivered as a cool breeze whipped through my hair. Even though I was wearing a warm sweatshirt, I could feel the cold.

"I don‟t care," I said, shaking the jacket at Owen. "It‟s November."  
Owen was chuckling, but he took the jacket anyway.  
"Just wear it for me, okay?" I said quietly.  
"For you," he answered, leaning down and kissing my cheek. I could feel his cold nose

against my skin and it sent a shiver down my neck. He smiled and returned to my dad. "Okay, now I‟m going inside where it‟s warm!" I called, walking up the porch stairs.

"Owen, come inside when you‟re finished and we‟ll go out."  
"Yes, ma‟am!" he answered, offering up one more smile before I turned and went inside.

Two hours later, Owen and I were snuggled together in our favorite booth at Larison‟s. We came here to eat often, because it had become his favorite restaurant too. Every time we came, I slid into the cushioned bench and Owen slid in next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. We never sat across from each other, because all through our meal we cuddled together, relishing the closeness. I adored out Larison‟s dates, and today was the perfect day for one, because it was so cold.

"Aren‟t you glad I made you wear your jacket?" I asked as I scooped a forkful of pasta into my mouth.

"It really wasn‟t that cold out," he answered. "But I appreciate how concerned you were. I thought it was adorable."

I blushed and looked up at him, my eyes meeting his. He no longer seemed to notice or flinch when he looked at my left eye with the brown spot in it. I was glad, because it made me less self-conscious. Now we were able to look at each other without there being any awkward tension. He leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose, and I scrunched it playfully.

"So, what‟s after this?" he asked, taking a small sip of his water.

"Ugh, lots of homework," I answered, plopping another forkful of pasta into my mouth. "I‟m sorry, but I have so much, I should get started on it today."

"That‟s okay," he said, squeezing my shoulder. "I don‟t mind."

I glanced at his hardly-touched salad. I was growing used to him not eating much, although he claimed to love Larison‟s. I never questioned it, just enjoyed our time together.

We finished and paid, and he held my hand as we walked to the car – opening my door for me and closing it after I crawled inside. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I flipped the

radio on and turned up the music when my favorite song came on. I sang the words – badly, but loudly – and he watched me and laughed.

"You‟re really cute, you know that?" he asked when the song ended.  
I smiled and rolled my eyes. "If I ever embarrass you, just let me know."  
He moved one hand from the steering wheel to where my hand rested on my lap, and he

held it gently, stroking the back of it with his thumb. We remained this way the whole way home.

"You really need to stop doing that," I mumbled, as I stroked Owen‟s face with my fingers. He was lingering close to me, supporting himself by holding onto the arms of the chair I was sitting in at my desk. He was leaning over me and his lips were grazing my cheek, sending shivers through me.

We had been home for an hour, and I had attempted to start my Government homework – an essay that I was very uninterested in – but Owen found it amusing to distract me by offering kisses and touches to my back and neck as he "watched" me work. I couldn‟t even pretend to be angry, though, because I enjoyed his interruptions more than he knew.

"And why do I need to stop doing this?" he mumbled in a low tone as his mouth traced the contours of my jaw line.

"Because I don‟t think you have any idea how distracting you are," I whispered, closing my eyes and enjoying the feeling of his breath against my neck.

His face rose to look at me. "Actually, I do," he smiled. "And that was the intention."

My eyes narrowed and I pulled his face to mine, moving my lips against his urgently. I wasn‟t normally so forward with him, but it wasn‟t fair for him to tease me so much and expect me to remain unfazed.

One of his hands moved to my face, and it cupped my cheek as he kissed me. My breathing quickened and I wrapped my arms around his neck. Normally, our kisses were soft, romantic, and sweet. But this kiss felt different; it felt powerful and urgent. There was a certain desire set forth by both of us that was hard to resist. I breathed out heavily, still kissing him, as he lifted me effortlessly out of the chair and into his arms.

My better judgment should have kicked in by now, and it would have if I had been kissing Adam. Too many times in the past, Adam had tried exactly what Owen was doing now, but his attempts had never been so irresistible, and I had never had a problem stopping him and returning to whatever I was doing. With Owen, I didn‟t want him to stop. If anything, I wanted to entice him, to urge him to kiss me as much and as urgently as he wished.

He laid me softly onto my bed and I felt the softness of my pillow underneath my head. We were still wrapped up in this intoxicating kiss, and his body hovered over mine, his fingers stroking my hair, while my hands stroked his back and arms. I could tell that he was being careful to hold himself up, not wanting to lay all of his weight on me. As much as I appreciated his thoughtfulness, I wanted the closeness. I wanted to feel our bodies pressed against each other, I needed it. So I did something completely out of character, and forcefully pushed him down

onto his side, rolling him over. I broke the kiss for a moment and his eyes met mine, shining with desire. His expression was surprised, but excited, as I moved my leg across him to straddle him. I leaned down again to kiss him and he moved his head to meet me, pulling me closer with his hands. This kiss was becoming dangerous, and it was at the point where I would have stopped Adam. But at this moment, I felt elated. I never wanted this to end. I tangled my fingers into his hair and pressed my body against his, harder than before. I heard a low moan escape his lips and it encouraged me on. His hands were on my back, moving down along the tank top I was wearing until he reached the skin above my jeans. I silently urged him to continue whatever he was thinking of doing, when suddenly I heard the floor outside my bedroom door creak. I leaped off of Owen and onto the floor beside my bed just as my mom stepped inside the doorway.

"Oh!" she seemed startled. "I, um, I thought you were doing homework." Her eyes bounced from my disheveled appearance, to Owen, who was now sitting on the side of the bed.

"Yeah," I spat out quickly. "I am, I just..."

Chris came running into my room and noticed the wrinkled blanket on my bed, my messy hair, and Owen‟s twisted shirt, and stifled a giggle.

"Downstairs, Chris," my mom ordered, turning him around and pushing him out into the hall. "Finish your homework," she said sternly, looking back at me. I nodded and watched her leave, noticing that she left the door wide open this time. I looked down at Owen, who was still sitting on the edge of the messy bed. He looked up at me like a sad puppy who had just been scolded. I giggled and cupped his face in my hands.

"It‟s okay," I whispered, kissing his lips lightly. His hand shook as he touched my face, and his smile was wary.

"You," he started in a shallow whisper. "are a dangerous girl."

I smiled at him and backed my face away from his to look at him. "And why is that?" I asked innocently.

He laughed, but he sounded exhausted. "You‟re lucky I‟m such a gentleman."

"Maybe not so lucky," I said with a grin. I turned back towards my desk and plopped into the seat, looking over my shoulder at him. He was staring at me with big, bright eyes. The desire was still evident in his face, but I needed to be cautious now, knowing that my mom was aware of what was going on. I sighed and returned to him, kneeling on the floor in front of where he sat.

"Come back tonight."  
He made a face and looked utterly confused.  
"Are you kicking me out?" he asked with a chuckle.  
"No, no!" I said urgently, grabbing his wrists with my hand to keep him from going

anywhere. "I‟m talking about later, after you‟ve left. Tonight." "Tonight?"

"Yes."  
"Why tonight?"

I bit my lip, looking into his eyes. I had never felt so sure of anything before, and I had certainly never considered sneaking a boy into my room after my parents thought I was asleep, but this felt so different. Everything about Owen felt different than anything I had ever experienced before. I wanted him. I needed him. I hoped he understood.

Suddenly the reasoning for my request registered in his head and his mouth turned up into that adorable smile.

"Ah," he breathed, realizing what I wanted. "Callie, did you see your mom‟s face?" He glanced at the doorway, remembering how angry my mom had looked when she walked in on us only minutes before.

"Of course, I saw it," I answered, moving my body closer to him and leaning my forehead against his.

"She‟s probably mad at me."  
"I doubt it. She‟s just surprised."  
"Why? She‟s never walked in on you like that before?" He sounded amused. I

straightened up. "Not really."

"Not even with Adam?" He was prying now, but for some reason I was okay with it. "No."  
"So you never..." his voice hung on the implied part of the sentence. I hesitated. "Not quite," I answered, averting my eyes.

"What does „not quite‟ mean?" he asked, positioning himself to make eye contact with me once again. I looked back at him, not sure what to say. Thankfully, he helped me out.

"You and Adam, you never...you know." He seemed shy mentioning it.  
"No."  
I didn‟t want to be too specific with him. Adam and I had never had sex, although is had

been clear that he‟d wanted to, but he had been my first and only experience going further than kissing. I had always been afraid to take that leap into losing my virginity – afraid of what it would do to our relationship, my emotions, and my head. Despite his best efforts to make me comfortable, I had never given in to the subtle pressures he put on me. Although he had never made it clear, I knew it disappointed him, but I was determined not to go that far until I was sure I was ready. Now, I suddenly felt ready, and that petrified me.

Owen‟s face seemed to relax, and his hands moved to my face, stroking my cheeks, which were still flushed from our exciting kiss.

"I would love to come back tonight."  
"Good."  
"But, I shouldn‟t. I don‟t want to get on your parents‟ bad side."  
I growled at him and narrowed my eyes. His expression looked pained.  
"You don‟t know how hard it is for me to refuse an offer like that," he said quietly.

I giggled. "Well, as long as it‟s hard for you," I teased. He kissed me one more time before I returned to my desk to type my essay, and this time, he sat obediently on my bed behind me, watching me work.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Can we have two more lemonades, please?" Owen asked our waitress in his sweet, polite voice. She nodded and turned away, leaving us cuddling in our usual booth. One of his arms was around my shoulder, holding me close to him, while his other hand was resting on my knee, stroking it lightly with his thumb. We had been sitting in Larison‟s for over an hour – already having finished our early dinner, and now just talking to each other. It felt nice to have the relaxing time after a long day at school.

"Homework tonight?" he asked me.  
I smiled apologetically. "I‟m sorry."  
"No worries, I enjoy watching you work."  
I laughed and placed my hand over his, still stroking my knee. The waitress came back

with two full glasses of lemonade and set them down in front of us. Owen took the straw out of my empty glass and stuck it into one of the new glasses, sliding it in front of me. I smiled and took a sip. I still wasn‟t completely used to his extreme thoughtfulness, and it always took me by surprise, sending a shiver of excitement and a surge of butterflies through my body.

"So, I guess that means you‟re planning on coming over?" I asked hopefully.  
"If that‟s alright with you, of course."  
I squeezed his hand excitedly and leaned up to plant a kiss on his smooth cheek. I loved

when he came over – actually, I just loved being with him, period. Although, ever since my mom accidentally walked in on us kissing a few weeks ago, there was an odd tension whenever the two of them were in the same room.

I had tried, several times, to explain to my mom that nothing had happened – we had only kissed, but she remained skeptical. Owen felt awful for giving her any reason not to trust him, so – much to my chagrin – whenever we were alone now, he was very careful not to let things get too steamy. He would barely kiss me whenever we were in my room now, fearing things would get too out of control; this always left me pouting and cursing my mother‟s poor timing.

He took a small sip of his lemonade and set it down on the table, twisting his mouth into an odd expression. I frowned slightly and he noticed.

"What?" he asked, his eyes wide with concern.  
"Is it too sour for you?"  
"No." His expression was confused.  
I let it go; he always made weird faces when he ate and drank, though I wasn‟t sure why.

Most of the time I just teased him about it. He glanced down at his watch and patted my knee. "Ready to go? It‟s 6:30."

"Sure." I nodded and grabbed my purse as he placed money on the table for the waitress to collect. He slid out of the booth and offered a hand down to me, helping me out.

When we arrived at my house, no one was home. My mom had taken Chris to hockey practice, and my dad was still at work – so we had the house to ourselves, and I could tell this made Owen uneasy.

"Maybe I should come back later, when you‟re parents are home?" He made it sound like a question.

"Don‟t be silly," I said, pulling him inside. "My mom will be home soon."

He didn‟t argue, but I could tell he wasn‟t happy about being alone with me – there was too much temptation. Even I wasn‟t sure if I could control myself, but I knew he would at least attempt to stop me if I got carried away. However, as we made our way into my house, his face darkened.

"What is it?"  
"Miles."  
I dropped my purse and backpack and ran ahead of him, frantically searching for my dog.

It still made me laugh, how Owen was afraid of him, but I had gotten used to hiding Miles in my parents‟ room while he was over.

I found the little dog curled up on the couch in the living room and I scooped him up, taking the back way to the stairs to avoid passing Owen. When I got upstairs, I set Miles on my parents‟ huge bed and watched as he made himself comfortable and lay down. I laughed and closed the door as I left. When I turned toward the stairs, I found Owen standing at the bottom, watching me.

"Callie, I don‟t think I should be here."

I frowned and rushed down the stairs into his arms. He held me tentatively, his face turned slightly so there was no chance of a kiss.

"Please stay," I begged. "We can stay in the kitchen in plain sight. Just please don‟t leave."

He breathed out a heavy sigh and squeezed his arms around me a little tighter, which put me at ease.

"Alright, but only because you begged," he teased.

I laughed and pulled out of his arms, grabbing my backpack from the floor and leading him into the kitchen. He pulled my chair out at the table and I unpacked my books and binders as he took a seat.

"Can I get you anything to drink? I‟m guessing you‟re not still hungry." I said, walking over to the refrigerator.

"No, thank you," he replied, pleasantly. He seemed happier now that we were staying out of my room, away from beds and closed doors.

I poured myself a small glass of water and sat down in my chair to begin working. He watched me intently as I began filling out a government worksheet.

"Don‟t you ever have homework?" I asked with a laugh. I had noticed over the past several weeks that he was always watching me do my homework, but I never saw him doing his own.

He shrugged. "Sometimes, but I get it done at school or at night."

I had noticed how smart he was – every test and quiz that was handed back to him in English class was hardly marked, and he had shyly mentioned to me once that he had never received less than an A on a report card ever since he entered high school. Of course, he had said it very modestly, giving me the impression that he was self-conscious about his good grades. I didn‟t doubt that he had no problem getting homework done at school, as well as completing in- class assignments.

I continued working, and after a few minutes I noticed his hand move to my leg. I peered at him out of the corner of my eye and he chuckled. I continued writing, but I became distracted as his fingers started stroking my leg playfully.

"Owen!" I laughed. He leaned toward me in his chair, still caressing my leg.  
"What?"  
"You‟re distracting me!"  
He froze, and backed away again, removing his hand. My guess was that he remembered

that I had said almost the exact same thing the day things had gotten too out of hand in my room and my mom had walked in.

Dammit, I silently cursed myself.

I wanted him to touch me, and I didn‟t want him to second-guess himself. But he was so stubborn. He was dead-set on keeping things G-rated, and it had been driving me insane for weeks. I reached for his hand and aggressively pulled it back into my lap. He let out a groan.

"Callie..."

He was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and he tensed up like a frightened cat, swiftly removing his hand and setting it on the table. I sighed, disappointed.

I heard my mom at the front door, shooing Chris upstairs to shower. She sounded stressed and tired, and I could feel Owen bracing himself for when she saw him. She came rushing into the kitchen and, to my surprise, beamed when she saw him.

"Owen! It‟s lovely to see you!"  
Owen looked shocked at her unexpected greeting. "Hi, Mrs. Ritter."  
She set her purse down on the counter and began questioning us about our day at school.

We answered her questions, still surprised by her good mood. Recently, every time she saw Owen, her mood suddenly darkened and she hardly spoke, which both annoyed and embarrassed me. I was pleasantly surprised by her behavior now.

"Callie, why don‟t you two go on up to your room to do homework? I‟m going to be using the kitchen to cook dinner. By the way, Owen, you‟re more than welcome to stay."

I gaped at her – she was really asking Owen and me to retreat to my room, alone, to do homework, after our awkward run-in? I looked at Owen and he appeared just as surprised as I was.

"Thank you," he said, after regaining his composure. "But, actually, Callie and I had been planning on going out tonight."

"Oh?" She turned to face me with a questioning look.  
"Yeah," I replied lamely. "Just seeing a movie – nothing big."  
"No dinner?"  
"We already ate."  
"Where?"  
"Larison‟s."  
"Oh." Her face showed no signs of anger, and she turned around to begin getting things

out to start dinner – now, only for herself, my dad, and Chris.  
"So, you want us to go up to my room?"  
"Yep, have fun with your homework!"  
"Uh, thanks." I packed my things into my backpack quickly before she could change her

mind. Owen rose from his chair slowly.  
"Oh, Callie?" My mom said over her shoulder.  
"Yeah?"  
"When you get home later, I‟d like to talk to you."  
Great. Now I understood her good mood – she was trying to lure me in. I was in for a

major discussion tonight, I could feel it.  
"Kay, mom." I slung my backpack over my shoulder and Owen and I retreated up the

stairs and into my room. I couldn‟t believe my luck. Here we were, alone, in my room – something Owen didn‟t like to have happen anymore, but this time my mom had asked us to do it. Maybe it was a trick, or a test. Maybe she would walk in unannounced, just to see if we were really doing homework, or if we were kissing on my bed again. I prayed that she was just being nice and trusting us.

I threw my backpack down on the chair and raced into Owen‟s arms. He was standing awkwardly by my bed, not knowing whether to sit down or not, but when I wrapped my arms around him, he seemed to relax. He pulled me comfortably against his chest and sighed into my hair.

"What‟s up with your mom?" he mumbled.

"I don‟t know, but don‟t question it," I said into his jacket, breathing in his scent. He laughed and pulled back to look at me. I took advantage of the opportunity and leaned up to kiss him. He kissed me back, but he seemed cautious. I knew he was nervous that I would get carried away, but I didn‟t care. I needed to kiss him, and I needed to fee l his hands in my hair and on my face. Once again, the rush came over me and I didn‟t care about the consequences. I was willing to risk getting in trouble. I needed this.

He could feel my kiss becoming more urgent and he started to back off, but I pulled him closer, locking my arms around his neck.

"Callie," he muttered in between kisses. "Shut up," I whispered.

He chuckled and I heard a low groan escape him, but he gave in to my pressure and kissed me with as much enthusiasm as I was kissing him.

We were already next to the bed, so it took very little effort for us to sink down onto it. I was poised on top of him as we kissed, his fingers lightly tugging at my hair. His breathing became shallow, and I knew this was going right back where it had gone before. We were only moments away from him pushing me back and stopping me. I had to act fast.

I quickly pulled a hand away from his face and brought it down to his chest. His breathing quickened and I took it as encouragement. I began tracing my fingers lightly down the front of his polo. I had just reached his stomach when he lightly pulled my hand away. I pulled my face away from his so I could look at him.

"You don‟t know what you‟re doing," he whispered.  
"Yes, I do."  
"Honey, you‟re a virgin. You don‟t want to do this right now."  
I sat up suddenly, and swung my leg over him so I wasn‟t straddling him anymore. I

looked at him with a hurt expression, and I could see that he felt guilty. He sat up and put an arm around me.

"I‟m sorry," he said quietly. I wasn‟t looking at him, and I was willing the tears not to spill over onto my cheeks. "Callie," he pleaded. His tone was pained, and I felt bad for making him feel guilty, but I couldn‟t help it. I was so confused.

"Owen," I started, my voice shaky. "You‟re not a virgin, are you?" He paused, and I could hear him swallow.  
Don‟t worry about hurting my feelings, I thought.  
"No," He finally said.

The word pounded in my ears over and over, torturing me for several seconds, until I realized that I shouldn‟t be surprised. He was absolutely gorgeous – the epitome of perfection. And he didn‟t look like a teenager – I was sure most people expected that he was in his twenties. If I couldn‟t resist him – a person who had very little experience in the field of sex – how could I expect someone who was experienced to be able to? He watched me in silence as I contemplated, and he finally spoke up.

"You‟re angry."  
I thought about it for a second.  
"Not exactly."  
"Please don‟t lie to me."  
I gave him a weak smile and rose from the bed. "I should do my homework."  
"Right."  
He got up too, and began smoothing out the blankets on my bed, fluffing the pillows so

there was no evidence of us having been on it at all. I sat down at the desk and took a deep breath. At least my suspicions were confirmed. And in a way, I felt kind of good about the fact that Owen wasn‟t a virgin. For one thing, he was more experienced. I wouldn‟t have to worry whenever I lost my virginity to him – and I assured myself that I would. At least he would know

what to do, and he could help me if I was having trouble. I giggled at the thought, and Owen raced to my side, kneeling next to my chair. I smiled at him and cupped his face in my hands, smoothing back his hair.

"It‟s okay, I‟m not mad," I said with a smile.

He sighed, "Good." And with that, he kissed me gently and allowed me to work on my homework, which I did quickly – anxious to leave.

We pulled out of the movie theatre parking lot several hours later and Owen groaned.  
"That was the stupidest movie ever."  
I burst into laughter at the thought of the cheesy romance we had just spent two hours

watching. I hadn‟t been expecting anything great out of it – I had just been looking forward to spending a night out with him. We had spent the majority of the time cuddling and holding hands, or looking at each other and giggling whenever a character had said a corny line. It had been fun, and we were both in goofy moods now.

"You are not taking me home after that!" I practically yelled over the loud music we were blasting in the car.

"Oh, no?" He asked with a laugh, grabbing my hand and kissing it. "So, where am I taking you?"

I pondered for a minute. Not my house – both of my parents would be home by now and there would be no privacy at all.

"How about your house?" I asked, knowing he would say no, but hoping he would surprise me. He still hadn‟t gotten over his adamant „no meeting the parents‟ policy.

To my surprise, he looked thoughtful, and he finally pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and turned the music way down.

"Let me make a quick call," he said.

I watched him as he expertly drove with one hand while talking on the phone with the other. He didn‟t say much – but he asked whoever was on the line if anyone was going to be home. I guessed he was talking to his parents. When he hung up, he turned to me and smiled.

"Okay, we‟re going to my house, then."  
"Great!" I exclaimed. "Will your parents be there?"  
"Nope."  
I silently pouted for a moment, but then realized what that meant. We were going to be

alone. And Owen was okay with it. I could hardly contain my excitement. My legs bounced in anticipation and I silently went through crucial details in my mind.

Yes, I shaved this morning. No, it‟s not that time of the month...

I was so deep in thought that it took me a while to notice that we had driven out of Chester‟s town limits.

"Where are we going?"  
"Oh, I don‟t live in Chester." "Oh."

We continued driving, and I grew more and more nervous as we continued. Finally, after twenty minutes of driving, he turned down what looked to be a small side street, but as we drove down it further, I realized it was a driveway – surrounded by beautiful forests and lined with huge trees. It went on for almost a mile, and finally a house came into view. It was magnificent. It looked to be new – although it was hard to tell in the dark – it appeared to be all brick with a huge porch sprawling the front. The front yard was massive, with gigantic oak trees sporadically placed around it. I stared at the house in awe as Owen pulled up in front of the garage and parked his Mercedes. Suddenly his appearance and his car fell into place – I couldn‟t picture him living in a house any less extraordinary than this one.

"So, this is my house," he said with a wry smile as he held the door open for me to climb out.

"Impressive," I said, sliding out and falling into his embrace as he led me to the front door.

"Now, no one‟s home so don‟t worry."  
"Why would I worry?" I asked him, making a face.  
"I told you, my parents can be embarrassing," he replied, grinning.  
Trust me – knowing that I can be alone with you in this house, the last emotion I‟m

feeling is worry.

I noticed his mouth turn up in a smile and he pulled me in the front door, revealing a sight even more exquisite than I had imagined. I took in the beautiful fireplace in the family room, the huge cherry wood table in the dining room, and the enormous floor-to-ceiling window straight ahead in the living room. Silk draperies hung on the windows, and large, beautiful paintings decorated the walls. A fancy-looking spiral staircase was off to the side, with pearly-white carpet lining the wooden floor. The house was absolutely breathtaking. It would have seemed a little ostentatious for anyone else to live in, but it suited Owen – I could only imagine what his whole family must be like.

"Wow," was all I could manage.

He pulled me into his arms and led me to the kitchen, where he sat me down in a chair. I looked at the clock – it was almost 9:00 pm, and I was sure my mom was wondering where I was.

"Do you mind if I call my parents quickly?" I asked.  
"Not at all," he replied, pouring me a glass of water at the sink.  
I escaped from the room and whipped my phone out of my purse. I quickly dialed the

home number and impatiently waited as it rang. "Hello?" It was my dad.

"Hey, is mom there?"  
"Sure," he answered. A few seconds later a bright voice answered.  
"Hi, sweetie!"  
"Hey, mom." I paused. If I wanted to be smooth and get away with being at Owen‟s

house, I had to be smart, and in this case, that meant telling a white lie.

"Listen, mom, I‟m at Anna‟s house." I bit my lip, feeling bad that I was lying. "Can I sleep over tonight?" It was a Friday, so I assumed this was an acceptable question.

"Sure, honey," she answered. "Where‟s Owen?"  
"He went home. He dropped me off."  
Liar, I scolded myself.  
"Okay, I‟ll see you tomorrow, then. And we still need to talk." She sounded pleasant

enough, so I wasn‟t worried. "Okay, goodnight."

"Night, sweetie."

We hung up the phone and I felt triumphant. Yes, I had just lied to my mom, but I had a good idea of what was going to happen tonight, and I needed to do whatever I could do to make sure that it really happened. I returned to the kitchen and Owen was sitting in a chair waiting for me.

"You lied?" he asked.

"You could hear me?" I thought I had been far enough away from the kitchen that he wouldn‟t hear my fib.

"Unfortunately," he answered. His mouth turned down at the corners and I knew he was unhappy.

"I‟m sorry," I said, reaching for his hands. "But I want tonight to be perfect. I didn‟t want to have to leave – this way I can stay the night." I smiled, but he didn‟t.

"What do you mean, you want tonight to be perfect?" he asked suspiciously.

"Isn‟t that why you brought me here?" I leaned back in my chair again, my face showing my confusion. He didn‟t respond – he just looked at me with a blank expression. Finally the realization hit him and his expression darkened.

"No, that‟s not why I brought you here."  
I stared at him for a few seconds and then replied, "Fine."  
He breathed deeply for a minute and then took my hand in his again.  
"I‟m sorry," he whispered. "But I don‟t want you to lose your virginity yet."  
I spun my head around and stared at him, shocked.  
"You don‟t want me to lose my virginity yet."  
"No."  
"Because that is really your decision, right?" I was mad, and I had never felt this way

while talking to him. I didn‟t like it at all. He looked wounded.  
"That‟s not what I meant," he said. He appeared to be thinking about what he wanted to

say. "I just meant, we‟ve only been together for a little over a month. I don‟t think it‟s the best time."

I nodded slowly, understanding. But timing didn‟t matter to me anymore – not with Owen. All that mattered was that it was with Owen. What if he decided he didn‟t like me anymore, before I had the chance to lose my virginity to him? Just the thought of him deciding I wasn‟t right for him was enough to give me goose bumps and make my stomach lurch.

Suddenly his hand was on my face, as if to comfort me.  
"I‟m not going anywhere, Callie."  
That‟s funny, I thought. How ironic, after I was just thinking about that.  
He was smiling at me, but it was a sad smile.  
"You‟re the only person I want – the only girl for me."  
I could feel tears spilling out of my eyes, and his finger wiped them away.  
"Please don‟t cry, angel," he soothed. I touched his hand and pulled it to my mouth,

kissing it. He smiled and leaned forward, kissing my forehead. "So," I began. "Are we actually together now?"  
"What do you mean?" he asked.  
"Like, are we dating?"

He shrugged. "Well, yes, I guess we are." He smiled, and I was satisfied. He leaned forward again and kissed me on the lips softly.

"You‟re still welcome to stay the night," he said. "No one will be home until late tomorrow. But we will be sleeping."

I laughed and nodded. I was too happy now that we were „officially together,‟ that I wasn‟t concerned about the sex thing at the moment. I was almost giddy with excitement.

He caressed my hands for several minutes while we sat there, and then he noticed my empty glass and got up to pour me some more water.

"Thanks, boyfriend," I said teasingly.

He laughed and I saw him roll his eyes. He walked over to me from across the kitchen, holding the glass and placing it on the table in front of me. He continued walking around the side of the table, his movements fluid and beautiful. He held my face with one hand and combed through my hair with his fingers with the other hand.

"Callie," he said in a sultry, deep voice. "You should know that I don‟t need a title like „boyfriend,‟ but if it makes you happy, then I‟m glad to be known as that."

I smiled. "It does."  
"But boyfriend or not, I love you."  
I stared at him, eyes wider than ever. My heart was pounding like crazy, threatening to

leap out of my chest. I felt my face flush and hoped my delirium wasn‟t too obvious.

He loves me.

The thought didn‟t quite penetrate, yet somehow I understood enough to be walking on clouds.

Owen loves me?

I continued looking at him, but I didn‟t know how to respond. The idea of telling him I loved him too – which I absolutely did – didn‟t even register in my head. My mind was numb, and I needed to stand up so I could breathe easier, but I didn‟t know if I could get up.

"Callie?" His beautiful voice penetrated my trance.

"I...I need air," I stammered. I was feeling faint and my body was overwhelmingly hot. "Would you excuse me for a minute?"

"Oh, alright, are you okay?" he asked, concerned.  
"Yes," I said, getting up from the chair and wobbling on my unsure legs.  
He backed away from the table, pulling his vibrating phone out of his pocket.  
"I‟m going to take this, okay?" he said.  
I nodded, and turned for the hallway. He disappeared out the back door and it was safe to

breathe.

Wow.

I needed to find a bathroom, or some place I could just relax for a minute. It was too cold outside, and I didn‟t want Owen to be worried looking for me. I turned my head right and then left, but I had no clue where the bathroom was. All I could see were big rooms without doors, like the dining room and living room, but I didn‟t see any closed doors that would indicate a bathroom was behind it.

Maybe upstairs, I thought. I turned toward the spiral staircase and slipped my shoes off, taking note of the impeccably clean white carpeting. I bounded up the stairs in my socks and, when I reached the top, I was surprised by how many closed doors there were in the small hallway. Owen hadn‟t told me that he had any siblings, but I expected that all of the doors led to bedrooms, or perhaps offices and closets. I shrugged and opened the first one – a bedroom. I shut it again and opened the second door – another bedroom. I sighed and reached for the third door, but as my hand reached for the knob, a hand harshly grabbed my arm and yanked me away.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

I spun around, startled, at the fierce pull on my arm. It was Owen.

How had he gotten to me so fast? I hadn‟t even heard him coming up the stairs.

When I looked into his eyes they were dark. He looked furious, almost scary. For several seconds I couldn‟t speak – I was just standing there, my arm being held tightly by this terrifying, angry-looking version of Owen.

"W-what is it?" I stammered. His grip on my arm slowly relaxed, but he didn‟t let go. He still wouldn‟t speak, he just stared at me with black eyes, his lips fixed on a hard line.

"Owen?"

"Come back downstairs." His tone was rough, raspy. It wasn‟t the sultry smooth voice I was used to. Although I was scared, I allowed him to pull me toward the stairs.

"Owen, what‟s behind that door?" It was obvious the reason he pulled me away was because he hadn‟t wanted me to open it. He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me. His face darkened then, his eyes icing over with a frost that looked impenetrable. His look frightened me and I instinctively backed up a step. He let go of my arm, and his eyes became soft again when he noticed the red marks left by his grasp.

"Please just come downstairs," he pleaded, his voice pained.

"Sure," I said. Whatever was behind that door, it was obviously private, but that made me more curious. He took my hand, holding it gently, and led me downstairs and safely into the hallway. He pointed to a closed door next to the living room.

"There‟s the restroom," he said quietly.  
"Oh," I said, embarrassed that I hadn‟t found it earlier. "Thanks."

He smiled weakly and waited until I was inside the bathroom with the door closed before I heard him walk away. I stood in the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I didn‟t know what to do. Obviously, something wasn‟t right. Owen had become a different person in a matter of milliseconds and I couldn‟t figure out why. I needed to get behind that door and find out what he was hiding. Although it wasn‟t any of my business, I needed to do it.

I returned to the kitchen where Owen was sitting at the table. When his eyes met mine, he jumped up from his seat and raced towards me. I was scared for a second, not knowing what was coming. But when he swept me up into his arms, it was clear that his bad mood had vanished. I was curled up in his embrace as he sprinted up the stairs. Suddenly, we were in his room – or, what I assumed to be his room, although I had never been in it. In a blur, I was thrown onto his huge bed, but it wasn‟t aggressive or harsh – it was electrifying and exciting. All of my thoughts of the door down the hallway quickly vanished and were replaced by the desire for Owen. Before I knew it, he was on top of me, kissing me with a passion more exciting than we had ever experienced. I gave in to the instincts that came along with kissing like this. Our breathing was shallow, and both of our hands were locked in each others‟ hair. This was so unlike how he had been ever since my mom had seen us kissing. Since then, he had been purposely trying to avoid this. The way he was acting was so different, so exciting – and then it hit me.

He‟s trying to distract me.

At that moment, I knew exactly what he was doing. He was trying to keep me from thinking about the door, about the awkwardness that had just taken place. He was making an effort to seduce me, instead of risking the chance that I would open the door and discover whatever was hidden behind it. He knew this was my weakness – it‟s what I‟ve wanted. He was using this against me, and to his advantage. But why? What could be so bad that was so worth randomly seducing me against his morals? As I kissed him, I tried to think of what could possibly be so embarrassing or worth hiding. I came up blank.

I have to get inside that room, I thought. But how?

I gently pushed him away enough so I could see his face. His eyes were gleaming, and they had a sort of desperate look to them. I smiled slightly and he watched, waiting for me to speak.

"I, um, I need to make a quick call," I whispered.

What a lame cover.

He nodded, but he looked hesitant. He slowly slid off of me and stood next to the bed. "Shall I walk you downstairs?"  
That made it clear that I was supposed to make my phone call far away from the secret

door.  
"Uh, no," I said uncomfortably, already planning how I was going to break into the door.

"I‟ll be fine. I think I know where everything is now."  
He smiled faintly and I could tell he was suspicious. I turned to leave the bedroom and

saw the door that was my ultimate destination, looming towards the far end of the hallway. I turned and found Owen standing in the doorway of his room, watching me walk toward the stairs, as if making sure I wasn‟t going to try anything sneaky.

Figures.

I offered a shy smile to him as I walked, and I turned to walk down the stairs, still watching him in the doorway. When I stepped down onto the next step, he seemed satisfied, and disappeared into his room again.

This is my only shot. If I screw this up, he‟ll know what I‟m doing and he won‟t let me out of his sight.

I hovered on that step for a few seconds, watching his bedroom doorway to make sure he wasn‟t still there. I counted to ten in my head, my heart racing with nerves.

One...two...three...

I swallowed, and my eyes found the door‟s handle.

Four...five...six...

I positioned myself, bracing my arms against the stair banister to push me off and get to the door quickly. No doubt Owen would hear me and come running, but I had to make it inside the door before he could stop me.

Seven...eight...nine...

One more look towards his bedroom – he was still out of sight.

TEN!

I launched myself off the stairs, pushing against the banister with all my weight and propelling myself for the door that was only a few feet away. My hand clasped the door handle, and out of the corner of my eye, Owen was coming at me, reaching for me desperately. I pushed the door open, but it was dark inside, and as soon as I did it, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

No way, I thought. I‟m so close, you can‟t stop me now.

I spun myself around, under his arm – no doubt faster than he had imagined I could move. His grip loosened out of surprise for a split-second, but it was enough for me to break free and fling myself into the dark room. In his attempt to come after me once again, the door was pushed open more, allowing enough light to enter in – and allowing me to get a good look at what was inside.

A gasp escaped my mouth and my hands flew up to stifle it. My eyes were wide with terror as I looked all around. I was on the floor in this closet-sized room, looking up at shelves lining the walls. The shelves spanned from the floor to the ceiling – on both the left and right sides, as well as straight in front of me. Lining the shelves, without so much as a small space between them, were differently-sized jars containing red liquid. My eyes scanned the shelves quickly, noticing that every single one of the jars was filled with deep red liquid. There were different sizes, and they all looked different, but the contents remained the same no matter where I looked. I slowly rose from the floor, so I was eye-level with one of the shelves. I stepped toward it and examined a covered, medium-sized jar, filled to the brim with the thick red liquid I recognized as blood.

My stomach heaved and I felt acid racing up my throat. I must have gagged or something, because suddenly Owen was holding me protectively. It was only then that I realized he had been standing in the doorway of the small room, watching me piece together what I was looking at. So this was his big secret. A room filled to the ceiling with jars of blood. I looked at him, terrified. His eyes were sad as he looked at me, and I pulled away from him harshly. He let me go and stood against the wall next to the open door. He watched my face, waiting for me to start asking questions.

"W-what...?" I stuttered. I had no idea what to say. "W-what the h-hell is this?"

"This is a room full of blood," he said quietly. His eyes were on the floor. I was appalled at how easily he found it to be so matter-of-fact. Of course it was a room full of blood. Thank you, Captain Obvious.

"Emergency blood, actually," he corrected himself. He still wouldn‟t look at me.

I shifted my weight and rubbed my arms to control the shivering that was taking over my body.

"Emergency blood?"  
"That‟s right." His voice was so low and raspy, I had trouble hearing him.  
I watched him impatiently. To say I was freaking out would have been a huge

understatement. I didn‟t understand, and I was furious that he wasn‟t explaining himself. He sighed and shoved a hand into his jeans pocket, fishing around for something. I waited and watched as he pulled out a small glass vile and held it up for me to see.

"This is some more," he whispered.  
As I looked closer, I noticed that it, too, was filled with blood.  
"You walk around with blood in your pocket?!" I was aware that my voice had raised a

few octaves, but I didn‟t care. Clearly, Owen was some sort of psychopath. He was obviously mentally disturbed, or maybe he was like Angelina Jolie when she married what‟s-his-face, and wore a vile of his blood around her neck instead of a wedding ring. In any case, nobody carries around a small sample of blood, unless you‟re completely wacked. I thought about making an escape and running out of the room, but in order to do that, I would have to pass Owen, and, quite frankly, I was now afraid to get too close to him. I waited for him to offer an explanation.

"Callie," he started, putting the vile of blood back into his pocket. "You weren‟t supposed to see this."

"Clearly."

He sighed. He made eye-contact with me for a second, and then turned away, but it was long enough for me to see that his beautiful silver-blue eyes had dulled to a faint gray color.

"I‟m not normal, Callie."  
"I couldn‟t tell." I was being rude now, but I was scared.  
"This is a room full of emergency blood, and this," – he patted his jeans pocket – "is

blood for me to have with me, in case," he hesitated. "in case I need it."  
My eyes narrowed as I tried to understand what he meant by in case I need it.  
"I don‟t get it," I finally said. "Why would you need to carry around blood with you?" "Sometimes it‟s hard, being around people all day. I go to school, so I‟m faced with them

all the time. The urge...it sometimes gets too strong to deal with. But I can‟t give in to the temptation, that‟s not who I am. It‟s so difficult – it hurts sometimes. So that‟s why I keep this with me. It‟s just...safer for everyone."

My head was spinning.

What the hell is he talking about?

"Owen," I started. "You‟re going to have to be a little clearer with me. You can‟t give in to what exactly?"

He paused and pinched his eyes shut for a few seconds. When he opened them, his expression was even more pained.

"The thirst."  
I tried to grasp what that meant. The thirst? What did that mean?  
"You mean, like, blood?"  
"Yes," he said through his teeth.  
He was beating around the bush, I could tell. I just wanted to know the truth, no matter

how ugly. He was torturing me by telling me only the bare minimum, and even what he was telling me was scaring me.

"Owen, just spit it out!" I snapped.

His head slowly rose so he could make eye-contact with me, and this time he held it. I braced myself and swallowed hard, waiting for him to speak.

"I‟m a vampire."

My knees buckled and I nearly fell. I saw him start to move forward to support me, but he caught himself and stayed away, probably knowing it was better for him to keep his distance from me. I clutched the edge of a shelf, causing the jars to wobble a bit, but I was able to keep myself standing. My head was throbbing and I felt dizzy.

A vampire?

Vampires weren‟t real. They couldn‟t be. Vampires were made-up mythical monsters that lived in scary stories and urban legends. This couldn‟t be possible. Owen could not be a vampire. But as I looked at his sad, embarrassed expression, the realization that this wasn‟t a joke hit me hard. Something about the way he told me, the sincerity in his voice, the pained look on his face – it all made me believe him, as crazy as it seemed. Plus, the evidence was hard to ignore; I was standing in a room full of blood, for God‟s sake. If this was just him pulling my leg and trying to scare me, it was pretty sick – but one more look at his face assured me that he was being honest.

Okay, Callie, this can‟t be as bad as you think it is.

But it was. I knew it was. My boyfriend had a vile of blood in his jeans pocket, an entire room in his house filled with "emergency blood." How long have we been assured by our parents that monsters don‟t exist, only to find out that they have been walking among us, blending in, going unnoticed all along? My head spun and I felt sick again.

"Owen," I whispered.  
His head shot up again and his icy eyes penetrated mine again.  
"I‟m not going to hurt you," he said.  
I took a deep breath and fought the tears that were spilling over onto my cheeks. I strained my mind to remember the old classic vampire stories I‟d heard as a kid,

although they had always scared me and given me nightmares. Didn‟t the legend say they seduced humans in order to lure them in before they fed off of them? Is that why kissing Owen felt so incredible? My stomach turned into a series of knots and my skin grew clammy.

But he appeared to be so calm standing there in front of me, almost ashamed – the slightest development of a sad frown playing at his lips. He jumped into explanations to break the silence.

"I don‟t kill people. I mean, not anymore – not since I‟ve matured. As a young vampire it‟s nearly impossible not to kill people – the ravenous instincts take over. But now, I don‟t feed off of humans. My family and I, well, the others that I live with, we all drink animal blood to quench our thirst. But, of course, it can be hard to resist when I‟m around humans all day – that‟s why I have this." He patted his pocket again. "And, if I can‟t hunt for a while and the thirst becomes too strong, well, that‟s where this room comes in handy."

He was talking so fast, it was hard to keep up. My mind was only able to process the key points of his speech.

Not going to hurt me. Animal blood. No humans. Emergency blood.

He continued.

"Of course, drinking blood isn‟t the only thing that makes me dangerous. I‟m extremely strong – so strong, that I could snap a human in half with minimal effort."

I cringed.

"Sorry, clearly not the right example to use," he said. "In any case, that‟s why I try to be careful with you. I mean, I could have easily kept you from seeing this room. But in order to really hold you back, I could have easily ripped one of your"-

He hesitated and noted my wide eyes and frightened expression.  
"Well, I could have really, really hurt you," he finished.  
I knew he wasn‟t trying to scare me – he was just offering an explanation. Of course, I

was petrified. I watched him and listened carefully, trying to piece together everything he was telling me.

"I can also sense emotions." This took me by surprise. "Emotions?"  
He nodded.

"I know how you‟re feeling. Not always, but most of the time. It‟s how I was able to tell that you didn‟t want to be talking to that stupid ex-boyfriend of yours."

I remembered back to the day when he had interrupted that awkward conversation between me and Adam outside of the cafeteria several weeks ago.

"The stronger the emotion is, the easier it is for me to feel. But of course, my senses aren‟t perfect."

"So, you know what I‟m thinking?"

"Well, I think I have a pretty good idea of what you‟re thinking, but no. Sensing emotions isn‟t the same thing as mind-reading."

"What do you think I‟m thinking?"  
"You‟re afraid."  
I gulped. Of course I was afraid. I was standing in a closet full of blood, in front of my

vampire boyfriend. As I looked at him, I knew my eyes were deceiving me. Were his lips suddenly redder than before? The result of drinking so much blood? Was his skin paler, his teeth sharper? His eyes, always sparkling and radiant, suddenly looked menacing to me.

Without thinking, I wrapped my hands protectively around my neck, as if that would do anything to deter him in case he wanted to attack.

His eyes darkened as he realized the reasoning for my action.

"You don‟t honestly think I would do that, do you?" he demanded. "Do you not understand that I‟m in love with you?"

"When were you planning on telling me about yourself, Owen?" My voice shook. "Because this is a pretty insane secret to keep from your girlfriend. Or were you hoping I just wouldn‟t find out?"

"Please, calm down," he said. "Of course I would have told you eventually. It is a huge secret, I know. Trust me, I have to keep it from everyone."

His eyes found mine and I noticed that they had returned to the pale blue color I loved. "This is why I wanted you to wait."  
I tilted my head to look at him, still confused.  
Wait with what?

"You had to know about me before we...did that."

Ah. That.

My head pounded as I realized that I had been intending on having sex with a vampire. It was a blur of panic and confusion, although it wasn‟t clear to me which emotion was more appropriate to feel.

Owen wouldn‟t hurt me. Somehow that fact remained alarmingly clear through all this new, terrifying information. However, I couldn‟t deny that I had never been this scared in my life. I loved Owen, truly I did. But this was too much to take in all at once. I knew I hadn‟t even heard half of all that he had to tell me, but I needed to get out of there. After a few seconds of planning, I shot forward and pushed Owen aside, racing down the stairs. I heard him behind me, keeping up with me easily.

"Callie, wait, I‟ll drive you home."  
Of course, he could sense that I was scared and wanted to go home. Unbelievable.  
"No, I‟ll be fine."  
"Callie, it‟s ten miles back to your house. Please let me drive you."  
"No."  
I was racing through the house, grabbing my purse out of the kitchen and yanking on my

sneakers that still lay at the bottom of the stairs. He was standing patiently against a wall in the hallway near the front door. He looked wounded, like I had just hurt him. My vision was blurry as I pulled on my jacket and started toward the door, but he pulled me into his arms, despite my fighting him.

"Callie, listen to me," he pleaded. "I‟m so sorry. I should have told you. I shouldn‟t have let it go this long without you knowing the truth. I know you‟re scared, just please wait."

I gave up smacking him and trying to pull away from his solid grip. For the first time, I realized just how strong he really was. Despite my flailing around and trying to loosen his arms, he stood like a statue, his arms locked around me. I didn‟t have a hope of escaping him. I sighed heavily and leaned against his chest. I felt his breath on my hair and it comforted me, but I was still afraid. My chest was heaving with nerves and the urge to leave. He rubbed my back with one hand, obviously happy that I wasn‟t fighting him anymore.

"Callie, I love you. I‟m so sorry," he whispered.

I sniffled. His shirt was sopping wet with my tears. I pulled my face away from him so I could wipe my cheek dry.

"You‟re a vampire," I hissed. "Is it even possible for you to love a human?"

He released me from his grip and looked at me with sad eyes. I backed away, zipping up my jacket. I was fairly sure he wasn‟t going to stop me from leaving now.

"Stay away from me, Owen," I said through my teeth.

He nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. I was still facing him as I grabbed the door handle and opened it, sliding out of the house before he could say another word.

I slammed the door shut as I shot across the porch, leaping onto the grassy lawn and sprinting through the darkness. It was pitch black and I had no idea where I was going. I was afraid to look behind me – I didn‟t want to see Owen standing in the window, or even on the porch, watching me go. It would break my heart, and I knew I wouldn‟t be able to keep myself from turning around.

No, I thought. Just keep going. You‟ll figure out how to get home.

But ten minutes of running in darkness proved to me that I wouldn‟t find my way home. I finally stopped, and I was satisfied that I couldn‟t see Owen‟s house. I had no idea where it was at this point, so there was no way I could turn around now. I was glad that option was gone. I dug in my pocket and pulled out my cell phone, flipping it open. It was 10:30 pm. I couldn‟t call my mom to help me, but I could call Anna. I had rescued her from dates-gone-wrong and situations when she had needed help many times before. I scrolled through my contacts and hit the "send" button when I reached "Anna Klem."

"Hello?" a happy voice greeted me on the other end. She was always happy, and she rarely went to bed before 2:00 am. I knew I wasn‟t interrupting or waking her up.

"Hi, Anna?" I said, breathing hard from running so far. "I need help."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I didn‟t dare tell Anna about Owen. I couldn‟t. Although I was terrified and furious, deep inside I knew that this was a secret much larger and more important than I had ever known before. It would hurt Owen – and, more importantly, it could put him in danger. I couldn‟t cause him any more pain. Especially not after seeing his dead expression when I had left his house after being so rude to him.

Anna questioned me in the car the whole way back to her house anyway. On the phone, I had fabricated some sloppy, halfway-believable story that ended with me being stranded at the grocery store on the edge of Chester‟s town limit. I was amazed that I had actually been able to walk there in the dark from Owen‟s house – a place I knew I‟d never be able to find again, and I was happy about that. Anna had jumped out of the car when she saw me standing on the corner next to the grocery store, and she‟d thrown me into the passenger seat, demanding that I tell her what I was doing twenty miles away from home, alone, and without a car. I was freezing and my body was numb from the November night. It was then that I realized it would have been safer and much less exhausting to have stayed with Owen that night, but the thought sent a shiver of discomfort up my spine.

I ignored Anna‟s impatient interrogations and I stared, dazed, out the window. I could tell she was furious that I wasn‟t giving her any indication of what had really happened.

"You‟re so stupid, Callie!" she shouted. "It‟s almost eleven o‟clock and you were by yourself! Where‟s Owen, anyway? I would think he, of all people, could make sure you‟re not doing anything dumb!"

When she said "Owen" my body tensed, and I spun in my seat to face her. I noticed she was gripping the steering wheel to the point her knuckles were white and her arms were shaking. I knew she was worried about me, but I wanted her to shut up. She looked at me, her eyes quickly relaxing from their tense, narrowed shape when she noticed my scathing expression. I stared at her silently for a few seconds while we were stopped at a traffic light, and she spoke up quietly.

"Is it about Owen?"

I broke my stare and turned toward the window again. That answer seemed to satisfy her because she took a deep breath and dropped the subject. She turned the radio dial so there was soft music in the background – but other than that, the rest of the fifteen minute drive was quiet.

I woke early the next morning, jumping out of Anna‟s queen-sized bed. She was fast asleep and snoring softly as I crept to her closet and pulled out a jacket. I would walk home – I had done it several times before, and it was definitely a better option than waiting for Anna to wake up and

drive me home, because I would be setting myself up for her questions again. She would assume that I‟d had a night to relax and I was ready to talk now. I wasn‟t.

I slipped the dark blue windbreaker jacket on over my clothes and grabbed my purse from the floor next to the bed. It was 7:14, and at least if I went home now I could crawl into my own bed and not have to worry about being disturbed by nosy, but goodhearted, best friends. I snuck out of Anna‟s room quietly, careful not to wake her up. Nobody in her family ever woke up early, and luckily they didn‟t have any dogs that would bark at me and alert everyone that I was leaving.

Once I was outside, I relaxed. I had a good ten minute long walk ahead of me, and I could just be alone with my thoughts – which is exactly what I had done last night while Anna slept soundly. I hadn‟t gotten a wink of sleep; my mind had been running wild.

The air was cold but there wasn‟t much wind, so it wasn‟t uncomfortable to walk. I kept my eyes focused on the ground as I walked down the sidewalk. Anna and I lived on opposite ends of the same neighborhood, so I just had to walk through the maze of little streets and cul- de-sacs to get home. Since no substantial thinking or planning was involved in the walk, my mind was free to wander.

Owen is a vampire.

I shook my head slowly. This thought had been nagging at me all night and it made even less sense now than it had before. How could it be possible? Vampires weren‟t real. They were made-up monsters used to scare kids, and anyone who considered themselves to be one had to be insane. But the idea that Owen was psychotic didn‟t sit well with me either.

I am going crazy. I‟m completely nuts. This isn‟t happening.

I noticed my pace had quickened as I was thinking, and I slowed down. I pulled my eyes off the ground and looked around as I walked. This neighborhood was so normal. These people who I had grown up around were all so ordinary and safe. This whole town – Chester, the most average town in the United States – there was nothing special about it. Last night changed my perspective about all of this. Maybe my life wasn‟t as safe and normal as I thought it was.

My boyfriend is a vampire.

Yeah, not so normal.

Although, I realized I probably shouldn‟t call him my boyfriend anymore. When I had said "Stay away from me, Owen," last night, that probably constituted a break up. My stomach plummeted as this thought ran through my mind.

No more Owen.

I knew I had to keep my distance from him. It was just better that way. I wasn‟t afraid of him – in fact, I felt safe with him. Maybe even safer now, if he really did have super-human strength and speed, and crazy psychic mind and feeling capabilities. But, despite the fact that I wasn‟t afraid of him, I was afraid of the situation. Dating a vampire wasn‟t on my list of priorities, and the idea freaked me out. There were so many things I didn‟t understand, and way too many things I was too afraid to ask him. So, just like that, it was decided. I would stay away from Owen, and I hoped he would respect my last wish and stay away from me, too.

I was home faster than I had expected to be, probably because I had subconsciously power-walked the whole way. When my house came into view I spotted my dad nailing fence boards together in the front yard.

"Hey, dad," I called.  
He looked up and smiled.  
"Hey, Cal! You‟re home early."  
I let myself in through the gate.  
"Didn‟t sleep well. I came home to get a few hours in my own bed."  
"Ah." He continued hammering.  
I started towards the front door when he spoke up again.  
"Normally Saturday is mine and Owen‟s day for fixing stuff up out here," he said,

motioning to the yard. "But he called this morning and said he was sick."  
I nodded slowly, then turned and walked to the door. I let myself in and let out a deep

sigh of relief. Thank goodness, Owen was going to stay away. I was sure he had told my dad he was sick so that he wouldn‟t have to be around me and make me uncomfortable. I smiled, but it was a sad smile, and I let myself upstairs and into my room, and flopped down onto my bed, immediately drifting into a deep sleep.

At noon my mom woke me up, seeming a bit surprised that I had come home from Anna‟s house. I avoided the topic of conversation and began to change into fresh clothes.

"I think I‟m going to go to the barn today," I said.

"Oh, that‟ll be fun!" My mom exclaimed. "You haven‟t been to see the horses in a few weeks."

"Yeah, too much schoolwork," I mumbled.

That wasn‟t entirely true. Sure, I was swamped with school work – junior year was proving to be busier than I had expected. But besides the school work, I was spending almost every waking moment with Owen. I had abandoned my riding lessons to spend extra time with him, although I had played it off like I had school projects and papers to write.

My mom smiled and left my room to allow me to get ready. I needed to spend some time with the horses that I missed so much. I couldn‟t wait to see Lyric, my favorite horse that I had started riding last spring. I finished dressing into riding pants and a polo shirt, grabbed a jacket off the back of my desk chair, and went to the bathroom to check my reflection. My hair was a mess and my makeup was smeared, so I wiped it with a finger until the smudges were gone and I looked like I simply wasn‟t wearing any. I smoothed my hair back into a ponytail and nodded, semi-satisfied, into the mirror. I tore down the stairs and yelled a goodbye to my mom, who was in the kitchen making lunch for Chris and one of his friends.

I jogged to my Camry and noticed that my dad was finished in the yard. It was starting to get cooler outside and I rubbed my arms as I settled into the driver‟s seat and started the engine.

The drive to Secret Garden Farm was only about ten minutes long, and I enjoyed the quiet, relaxing drive to be alone. Of course, the thoughts about Owen penetrated my mind, but

when they did, I turned the radio on and cranked the volume loud enough to distract me. I sang along softly to the songs and focused on the excitement of getting back in the saddle and seeing Lyric and the other horses again.

I pulled my car down the long gravel driveway and smiled as the big white barn came into view. I parked near the stable office and jumped out of the car. When I entered the stable office door, the head coach of the riding program, Liz, greeted me with a hug.

"It‟s been weeks!" she exclaimed. "Where on earth have you been?"  
"School‟s kept me pretty busy," I said with a laugh, returning her excited hug.  
"Lyric‟s missed you. She just hasn‟t been herself." Liz smiled.  
"I‟ve missed her," I sighed. "Is she being ridden?"  
"She‟ll be happy to see you. You can take her out in the back field if you‟d like. Lessons

are being given in the indoor and outdoor arenas."  
"Okay!" I squealed, turning around and racing toward the barn aisle.  
I approached her stall and the beautiful chestnut mare lifted her head from her hay

manger and walked over to sniff my hand.  
"Sorry, beautiful girl," I said softly. "I don‟t have any treats for you, but I promise you‟ll

get some after our ride."  
I rubbed her soft, velvety nose and she breathed deeply into my hands. I was so excited to

be back with my friend who I had been missing. I fastened a halter over her head and pulled her out into the aisle to groom her and get her ready to ride.

The ride was exhilarating. It felt amazing to be back in the saddle again, flying freely with Lyric across the beautiful, open field. We galloped through the tall grass, up and down hills, and along the stream until we were both out of breath. I pulled her gently to a walk and laughed as I pat her neck, glistening with sweat. She snorted playfully into the air and pranced a bit. She was happy, and I was too – it felt so good to escape from my new, scary reality. I missed riding, and I vowed to myself and to Lyric that I would make more time for it.

When I returned to the barn I cleaned Lyric up, put her back in her stall, and retrieved some carrots from the mini-fridge in the office. I brought them back for her and she softly lipped them up out of my hand and chewed them happily. I scratched her forehead and laid a kiss on her nose before turning to leave.

I walked to my car and threw the door open happily. I had needed this ride and the visit with my equine friends; I had needed the distraction from the confusing, terrifying night I had. I was still smiling and oblivious to my new-found drama when I slid into the comfortable cloth driver‟s seat – until I spotted my phone lying on the console, flashing to make me aware of the two voicemails that were waiting for me. I cautiously picked up the phone and entered my password, then listened to my best friend‟s animated voice.

"Callie! Where the hell did you go? You‟ve never left my house before I woke up before, are you okay? I‟m really worried; I hope whatever happened last night is alright and you‟re okay. Um, can you call me back? Please? Thanks!" Click.

I sighed as I pressed the „delete‟ button. Then I listened to the second message.

"Callie! It‟s me again! I don‟t know where you are! I thought about driving to your house because you haven‟t called or texted me back yet, but I figured that was a little too stalker-ish, so I‟m just calling again. Are you okay? Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to come to Simpson‟s tonight for the free movie – tonight‟s supposed to be a good one! Jake and Caroline are going and they wanted to know if you‟re up for it. Please say you‟ll come! Call me back!"

I hit the delete button again and then scrolled through my inbox, which was filled with new text messages from a very frantic Anna, and a few other friends who were all planning to go to Simpson‟s tonight. I contemplated as I started the drive home. Simpson‟s was a small movie theater in the center of town. Every Saturday night there was a showing of an old movie that was completely free for anyone who wanted to come. My friends and I attended a few of the movies every month, and we always had a great time. I knew going to the movie would help keep my mind off of Owen and the night before, so at a stop-light I picked up my phone again and dialed Anna‟s number. After a few rings she picked up.

"Callie?" her voice was excited. "Hey."  
"Ohmigosh, where have you been?" "Chill, Anna, I went to the barn." "The barn?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "To ride Lyric – I haven‟t been out there for a while."  
"Oh, got it," she said. "Anyway, what do you think about tonight?"  
"Sounds good," I said after a short pause.  
"Yay!" she squealed. "I‟ll tell Jake and Caroline – Wanna go out to eat before the

movie?"  
"Sure," I replied.

"Great! I‟ll be at your house around 5:30 and we‟ll get ready, this is going to be so much fun!"

"Cool, see you then."

"Okay! You‟re gonna love this movie, Cal – tonight they‟re playing Bram Stoker‟s Dracula!"

Three hours later, I was applying makeup in my mirror while Anna straightened her hair in the bathroom. It had taken a while for my hand to stop shaking so I could successfully use my eyeliner, but now I was able to draw a fairly-straight, thin line of black across the base of my eyelashes. Loud music was blaring from my stereo – courtesy of Anna. Personally, I would have preferred if there was no music – I wanted silence. But, at the same time, silence would have allowed my mind to wander, and I knew I didn‟t want that either. I sighed deeply as I dabbed my eye-shadow brush against my eyelid. Anna came walking into the room and looked at me, frowning.

"Okay, what‟s wrong?" she demanded.

I turned around to look at her innocently.  
"I don‟t know what you‟re talking about," I half-laughed.  
"Seriously – you look like you‟re having the worst day ever. Like someone just killed

your dog. Didn‟t you have fun riding today? I would think that would at least cheer you up." "Of course I did," I said, maybe a bit too defensively.  
She sighed and turned down the music a little.  
"Look, obviously you don‟t want to talk about whatever happened last night. I get it, and

I won‟t push it, I promise." "Thanks."

"But, if you do want to talk about it, I‟m here, okay?"

"I know." I looked at her and she bit her lip, like she wanted to say something else but was holding herself back.

"Owen and I broke up," I breathed. Well, it was technically true – I mean, I‟m pretty sure walking out on him constituted me breaking up with him. Anna didn‟t need the details, and there was no way in hell I was going to give them to her willingly.

"I‟m so sorry, Callie!" she cried, wrapping her arms around me. My body stiffened, and I felt tears building behind my eyes, but I fought them back.

"It‟s alright," I said, patting her back. "Just a little down, I guess." It was only the understatement of the decade.

"I know," she said, smoothing my hair. "We‟ll have fun tonight, though. I hear this movie‟s awesome!"

I cringed and turned back toward my mirror as she skipped to the stereo once again and blasted some new Justin Timberlake song. I finished my makeup and tied my hair into a sleek ponytail, then grabbed my jacket and purse. Anna came out of the bathroom looking fabulous, as usual. I eyed her skinny black jeans and lime-green blouse, matching pearl necklace and earrings, and pin-straight blond hair. Her makeup was smoky and made her appear much older than she really was. I self-consciously looked at my own reflection in my mirror and frowned at the boot-cut blue jeans, black sweater, ponytail, and poorly-applied makeup. Anna noticed my displeasure and squeezed my shoulders.

"You look great!" she exclaimed. "Now, let‟s go have a fun night."


End file.
